


None Left to Protest

by ByVirtueFall



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-02-15 05:47:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 22,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13024539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ByVirtueFall/pseuds/ByVirtueFall
Summary: My first try at fan-fiction, so... be kind, please :)Three years after the season 6 finale, the newest curse is cast, taking Rumple, Regina, and Henry out of their beds in the middle of the night. No one knows what happened, where they are, or why. Rumple, now Weaver, Regina, now Roni, and Henry are in Hyperion Heights living their cursed life with no memory of those they left behind. Belle will do whatever it takes to find her true love again.





	1. Gone

**Author's Note:**

> Rated E for later chapters.
> 
> I, unfortunately, do not own Once Upon a Time or any of the characters.

Belle woke with a start, an ominous wave forcing her brain to wake. She was leaning up on her hands, the rising sun casting a light through the curtains. She looked to her left and found the bed empty, Rumple's imprint still cast in the pillow, the blanket bunched up as if he could still be there. There was _something_ , Belle thought, a wisp of magic, a sure feeling that something was wrong. Peering around, Belle saw that their room was untouched, Rumple’s pants still crumpled on the floor, her own clothing strewn about, haphazardly stripped from her the night before amidst giggles and moans. Pulling on Rumple’s robe, Belle inhaled his scent as she checked the master bath hoping to find the sink wet from use, but wasn’t surprised when it was dry and Rumple’s toothbrush still in the same spot as last night. The house was quiet and as Belle tiptoed downstairs she saw no sign of her husband or any indication he had been awake at all. His long black coat hung neatly on a hanger by the door, the coffee maker clean, the lights all dimmed. There was something off, she could feel it, and her stomach churned with worry.

She returned to their room and picked up her phone that had been charging on the nightstand. Belle barely used the phone, seeing it as an unnecessary distraction, but even she could see that it had its uses. Opening WhatsApp, she clicked on a group chat consisting of herself, the Charmings, Emma, Hook, Regina, and Henry. Henry had created the group, named “Mongoose,” and showed them all (well, except Emma) how to use it. _“Like magic,_ ” Snow had whispered when Henry showed his grandmother how she could instantly contact the whole group at once. Belle opened it and thought for a moment. She didn’t want to alarm anyone. After all, it was possible Rumple had snuck away to do, well who knows what, and would be back before breakfast. She almost set the phone down but, instead, listened to her gut.

“Hi… everything status quo?” The ambiguous message sent with a swoosh and she set the phone down as she heard the familiar patter of tiny feet.

“Mama! Papa!” A three year old Gideon came toddling in, his too big fire truck pajamas causing him to almost trip over himself. Belle bent down on her knees with her arms open and Gideon flew into them. She kissed his head, the mop of brown curls that were much too long reminded Belle to cut his hair.

“Good morning, Giddy!”

“Where’s Papa?”

“Oh, he’ll be home soon, I expect,” Belle said standing. “Come, Mama will get dressed and then we’ll have breakfast.” She took Gideon’s hand. “Pancakes and syrup, Gid?”

“Yes, yes, yes!”

“How do we speak?”

“Yes, _please_ ,” he corrected himself.

Belle slipped on tight jeans and the first thing that hung in her closet, a boat neck black sweater. She piled her auburn curls in a messy bun and quickly washed up. Gideon waited patiently, pretending a make up brush had paint, and went up and down on the tiles. It took all of five minutes to get ready and Belle led Gideon back to her room where she took her phone and put it in her back pocket. Holding Gideon’s hand, they made their way to the kitchen. Gideon stood on a step stool as they slowly made the pancakes together, the batter dripping onto the counter, one egg lost on the floor. Belle cleaned up as breakfast cooled and she poured orange juice into Gideon's red sippy cup. She allowed him to eat in front of the TV – a huge break of the rules – but Belle needed some time alone in the kitchen and wanted to keep Gideon distracted. Gideon was overjoyed as he sat on the floor, a big plate of pancakes on the coffee table, Thomas the train zooming on the screen. She had heard her phone ping with the familiar sound of messages and knew she had at least two missed calls, but did not want to look while she was still with Gideon. Now that he was sufficiently distracted, Belle carefully took out her phone, her heartbeat rising, her stomach fluttering.

“Yes, why, everything okay by you?” Snow had replied. There was about fifteen minutes between the next text, an urgent one with shouting capitals.

“HENRY IS MISSING” from Emma.

Belle saw she had missed calls from Emma and Snow but before she could call either back, her doorbell rang.

“Papa’s back!” Gideon cheered

“Oh, I don’t think so. Not yet, Gid.”

Belle wasn’t surprised when an agitated Emma came in.

“Emma!” Gideon ran over.

“Hey kid,” Emma said barely looking at him, “I’m going to talk to your mom, okay?”

“I’m watching trains,” Gideon said before running back to his pancakes.

Belle walked briskly to the kitchen and turned around to face Emma.

“Henry stayed over last night. After you sent that text, I knocked on his door. No answer, so I pounded. Killian suggested he go in and check – something about a mother not barging into a teenage boy’s room – and his room was empty. His bed, it was flat, but looked like he disappeared from it. No sign he was ever even awake. It isn’t like Henry, anyway. He would have left a note or a text or… something. I thought maybe he went to Regina’s but when she didn’t pick up we drove there. We knocked, rang the bell, finally I broke in and same thing. Her bed empty, blankets like she could still be there. Her phone and wallet were there.” Her words were flying out. “Killian is at home in case Henry returns. But I don’t think he will.”

“Rumple’s gone too,” Belle said.

Emma was fidgeting. “I sensed magic,” Emma said.

“Yes,” Belle replied.

A knock at the door disturbed them.

“Papa?” Gideon asked as Belle walked in.

“Not yet, baby” Belle replied.

The Charmings walked in, Neal running to the couch to join Gideon in front of the TV, the boys whispering greetings to each other. Stepping into the kitchen, David shook his head.

“We drove around – no sign of them,” David said.

Emma merely nodded, as if she was expecting it, her face pale and hands rubbing.

“Rumple’s gone too,” Belle replied.

“We need to find out if anyone else is missing,” David said. “I’ll go, let me know if anyone calls or if you find them.”

With that, David pecked Snow on the cheek and put his arms around Emma. “We’ll find him,” he reassured her. “We’ll find them all.”

The women were left in the kitchen as Belle poured coffee for them.

“Now what?” Belle asked.

Snow was silent as she sat at the kitchen table.

“Well, I can’t just sit here doing nothing,” Emma said. “I’m going to go to the station, see if I can find any information there.”

“I’ll take the boys today,” Snow said. “Maybe you can go through Rumple’s books, try to find out what could have happened.”

Belle nodded quietly. She could look through all the books she wanted, but Belle knew, deep down, that her husband was gone.


	2. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumple wakes up as Weaver, believing that he lost his wife and toddler son three years before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated E for later chapters.
> 
> I, unfortunately, do not own Once Upon a Time or the characters.

The sound of the alarm was pervasive and he grabbed the bloody clock and threw it against the wall. His head pounded – half a bottle of whiskey at 3 AM will do that – and the pain radiated through his eyes making his vision blurry. He kept a bottle of ibuprofen on his nightstand and he reached over without getting up and swallowed five without water, the dryness of his throat making him feel them slide down. Groaning, he rubbed his temples and sat up. If only he didn’t drink three hours before he needed to wake up. If only he didn’t wake from dreaming of them, the clock seeming to mock him by flashing “3:08 AM,” leaving him no choice other than to drink himself into a stupor, to make his mind like slosh so that he wouldn’t have the mental capacity to dream of her or him or anything at all. Maybe the whiskey would finally make him forget.

He dressed slowly, blue jeans and a light blue button down. The pre-set coffee machine was already going when he remembered he was out of milk. Black coffee it was, then. His cell phone went off and he squinted from pain, the sound making the dull throb of his headache even worse.

“What?” he answered.

“Well, good morning to you too, Detective Weaver.” Weaver didn’t respond, so the Chief of Police continued. “Your new partner will be here today.”

“I don’t want a partner,” Weaver replied.

“I don’t recall asking you. He’ll be here at 8.”

Weaver hung up and groaned at the prospect of spending his days in the company of another human. He sat on a stool and closed his eyes. His mind, of course, betrayed him and images of last night’s dream floated in front of him. She was there, of course, she always was, wasn’t she? His wife taken too soon, in a fire that consumed everything. Their belongings, their home, their love. He was on the overnight shift that night and they were dead by the time he got there. His beautiful wife, his toddler son. They were ashes, along with everything, he was not even left with a picture of them. It was three years ago and the only thing that had not burned up was the memory that they existed which haunted him nightly. Weaver could barely remember their faces now, just a blur of auburn curls, and the color blue. He could remember putting his boy to sleep, his favorite fire truck pajamas a size too big, but couldn’t place his face, the shape of his nose, the shade of his eyes. It was as if he was cursed to remember just how much he loved them, how much he missed them, but could not conjure their faces. Even in his dreams there was a distortion to them and no matter how hard he tried, he could not get a clear picture. Eventually he gave up, putting all his energy into forgetting, into the hope that one day, the pain would dissipate even a little. For now, he was resigned to drinking himself into oblivion before the sun rose and prayed to whatever silent god existed that he could be given some peace.

He downed the coffee in two gulps and strapped on his gun and his badge. He put on the black windbreaker that hung near the door and left his apartment for the donut shop down the block. He ordered himself another coffee, large, two shots of espresso and extra cream, and a dozen donuts to go. Two teenage boys chuckled behind him, the known detective buying donuts seemed a bit too cliché, but Weaver’s nasty look quieted them quickly. Taking the coffee and the box, Weaver made his way to the park, glancing around until he found a heap of blonde waves sitting on a park bench. Silently sitting next to her, Weaver slid the box over. She opened it with glee and said,

“Well, the kids’ll appreciate this.” She took one out herself, a powdered one with a spot of jelly on top, and took a big bite causing jam to plop on her lap. “Oi, well,” she said as she scooped it up with her hands, “Still good, though, ain’t it?” Weaver looked on slightly disgusted and drinking his coffee.

“Anything to report?” He asked dryly.

“Aren’t you chipper this morning?”

“Am I not always?” Weaver replied.

“Bad dreams again, huh?”

“And what would you know of that?”

She shrugged. “You pay me to know things, don’t ya?”

“Not about me.”

“You should have specified.”

Weaver stood. “If you have nothing to report…”

“Oi, well, I didn’t say that.” Alice replied, taking another bite, but swiftly catching the dripping jelly. Licking her lips, she said, “A new man was in the station last night. Handsome, if you swing that way,” she said with a wink. “Had an air about him and much too much eyeliner.”

“Anything else?”

“Said ‘is name was Rogers.”

Weaver nodded as he finished his coffee. He stood and threw the cup out. He handed Alice some cash. “Eat something proper today,” he said, before walking off.

 

Weaver arrived at the station to find a man standing, seemingly waiting, and looked at Weaver with recognition.

“You must be Rogers,” Weaver stated before Rogers could speak.

“How did you know?”

“I make it my business to know.”

There was an awkward silence for a moment, before Rogers stated, “I’m sure we’ll do great work together.”

“I’m sure,” Weaver said. “Shall we?”

Weaver led Rogers into his office where he handed him a pile of overstuffed manila folders.

“Here’s paperwork from my last twelve cases. How about you input them into the computer like a good lad?”

Rogers looked unsure, but took them anyway, and went to his desk. Weaver sat and rubbed at his temples. A call came in, a B&E at Hyperion’s newest apartment complex. He grabbed his keys to go when the chief walked in.

“Why is my newest detective doing the job of a clerk?” he asked

Weaver looked over to see Rogers drumming away at the computer. “He seems to have quite a knack for it,” Weaver replied.

“Take him with you Weaver, or you’ll be on desk duty until I can wipe that smug smirk off your face.”

“A while, then?”

Weaver went around the chief and motioned for Rogers to follow him.

“A B&E at the Apollo Apartments,” Weaver said as they rushed out.

The crime scene tape was up and news reporters were clambering about the entrance to the building. Weaver lifted the tape and went under, Rogers awkwardly following. The apartment was buzzing with officers, the owner, a young man, nervously bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“I’m Detective Weaver, this is my partner Detective Rogers,” he said.

“Henry Mills,” he replied.

“The author?” Rogers asked. “You're barely more than a boy.”

“Yeah,” said Mills. Weaver made a frustrated face as if this two second exchange wasn’t worth his time.

“Now that we all know each other, tell me what happened.” Weaver said.

Henry shared his story – he was out until morning (by a woman’s house, he would rather not say who) – and when he returned his apartment was in shambles.

“Anything missing?” Henry shrugged.

“I don’t have much worth stealing. My computer is still here. I barely looked before I called the police and now they won’t let me in.”

Weaver twitched his finger for Henry to follow and they walked into the disheveled apartment. The bookshelf was overturned, glass broken, clothes all about. Weaver looked at the officer holding a camera and, without having to speak, the man knew what Weaver wanted.

“We’re done here, Detective.”

Weaver lifted the book shelf up and Henry glanced around.

“I think a book is missing,” he said.

“A book…?” Weaver asked skeptically.

“Yes, uh, there’s this book, I haven’t opened it up in ages. It’s uh, well, it’s called “Once Upon a Time”. It’s larger than most books and it was mine when I was a kid, sort of inspired me to become a writer. I haven’t opened it up in years though, I don’t even remember what’s in it.”

“You think someone broke into your apartment to steal… a book?” Weaver asked.

“Well, sir, Mr. Mills here is quite famous. A prodigy, really. That book could fetch thousands on eBay.” Rogers added.

Weaver looked around. Henry stayed in the living room, crouching down and collecting the books from the book shelf.

Once away, Weaver said to Rogers, “All this for a book?”

“It could be worth a lot.” Rogers answered.

“I’m sure.” Weaver returned to Henry. “Anything else missing?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Henry replied.

“Come down to the station, give a description of the book as well as the value. We’ll do what we can.” Weaver left, then, with Rogers following and returned to the station.

No other calls came in, and Weaver spent the rest of his shift mindlessly patrolling. He had Rogers finish his filing while the chief was distracted and when his shift came to a close, Weaver left without a word. He drove silently to Roni’s, knowing he should probably eat first, but figured drinking on an empty stomach would get him drunk faster. Weaver found himself deeply thankful that the bar was empty, and he didn’t have to say a word before Roni poured him a glass of whiskey. Weaver threw it back in comfort. He liked Roni, though he couldn’t say exactly why. They barely spoke and there was no attraction there. Weaver wouldn’t call her a friend – he didn’t have friends – but he trusted her, if he ever needed someone to trust. He also knew, with some kind of unspoken certainty, that Roni remembered his wife and his son. He didn’t know how he knew this, he just knew, and so sitting in her bar, with her quietly washing cups, comforted his subconscious a bit, giving him this small connection to the family he once had, the family that he loved, the family he lost. Weaver tossed back four drinks in silence before Roni collected his keys.

“I’ll call you a cab, Detective.”

“Aye,” he responded.

She poured him another before guiding him outside. It was raining then, and he was grateful, because he tasted the salt of his tears streaming down his face. He got into the cab with a quick wave from Roni and returned home, stumbling up the stairs and into bed. Weaver closed his eyes and wasn’t surprised at all when he saw the hazy image of his wife and heard the far off sound of his son laughing.


	3. (Un)Welcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumple's story line is about 3 years ahead of Belle's, but Belle's will catch up. I'm sorry for the confusion.
> 
> Belle and the others are no closer to locating Rumple, Regina, and Henry in the two months that they have been missing. Belle is sick, quite literally, with worry and learning to raise Gideon as a single parent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the "kudos" and comments. I can't tell you what it means to me - I really appreciate it!
> 
> I do not own the show "Once Upon a Time" or the characters (but I really wish I did).

The days were bearable, but only just. Belle’s internal clock rang at 5:30 AM, a surge of nausea causing her to leap from bed and run to the bathroom where she would spend the better part of a half an hour vomiting. The previous night’s crying and anxiety took its toll, it seemed, and Belle had lost ten pounds in the eight weeks her husband was missing. She would shower, use Rumple’s Irish Spring body wash, dress and head downstairs to the kitchen where she would settle her stomach with a mint tea. There would be about fifteen minutes of quiet before Gideon would discover his parents room empty and would hop down the stairs where he would find his mother sitting quietly, sipping tea. She would plaster a smile on her face that would remain if Gideon was around. It wasn’t forced – Gideon was Belle’s joy – but there was something slightly artificial about it, like the gnawing unease in the back of her mind prevented true happiness. Two months had passed since Rumple’s disappearance and Gideon no longer asked for his papa. He simply came down the stairs into the waiting arms of his mother and looked at her inquisitively. Belle would kiss the top of his head and begin with what had become their morning mantra:

“Papa is not home yet. But he loves and misses Gideon. And he loves and misses mama. And it’s not Gideon’s fault, and it’s not mama’s fault, and it’s not papa’s fault. But papa cannot come back yet.”

Gideon would nod sadly, and Belle would hold him a little longer before suggesting breakfast which they prepared together. He would eat, get dressed, and they had some more time together to play, the only time where Belle truly laughed while coloring or reading or playing trains with her son.

They would walk to the daycare together, hand in hand, Belle absentmindedly singing Gideon’s favorite songs. Miss Ashley would greet them at the door, a special smile for Gideon, and Belle would head to the library. She restocked books, noting that she would have to place an order for new non-fiction (the citizens of Storybrooke had enough of fantasy). After sweeping, she would sit behind the desk and open one of Rumple’s magic books, voraciously reading, trying to find any hint of what could have happened. Belle wrote down relevant information in the notebook she kept in the library, copying down Rumple's sloppy notes he wrote in the margins. There would be visitors throughout the day. Snow stopped by first, on her way to work. She would sit with Belle for a bit, sometimes skim through a magic book, sometimes just talk. Emma and Hook were next, Emma updating Belle on any new information though there was always little to offer. Ruby came on her lunch break and served as the best distraction, telling Belle exaggerated stories of her nightlife and bringing lunch from Granny’s. Today she brought Spanish omelets and as soon as she opened the bag, Belle inhaled and promptly vomited in the garbage under her desk.

“Oh, gods, Rubes, what did you bring?” she asked, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and then rubbing Purell on her palms.

“Uh, it’s just eggs, Belle. You feeling okay?”

“I would feel better if you closed the bag and put it outside. I can’t… I can’t tolerate the smell.”

“Uh huh…”

“I’m fine, really. It’s just, this whole situation, it has me worried sick. Literally. I vomit every morning.”

“Every morning, you say?” said Ruby, her eyes arched.

“What is it?”

“Belle… when was the last time you got your… you know…?” Ruby asked, motioning her hand as if to tell Belle to hurry up.

“My what?”

“Period,” she said exasperated, hands on her hips, as if she already knew the answer and Belle was being intentionally dim.

Belle closed her eyes and thought. It was before Rumple disappeared, surely, but the fear and concern of this whole situation had completely wrecked her body, so, if she was being honest, she hadn’t even noticed. She stayed quiet and Ruby, being ever so blunt, said,

“Belles, is it possible you’re pregnant?”

The question shouldn’t have been a punch in the gut. But it was. _Of course_ she could be pregnant. She and Rumple had been quite compatible in the bedroom and she wasn’t on any kind of birth control. The silence egged Ruby on.

“I’ll pick up a test for you and be by after Gideon’s asleep, okay? No matter what, you’re not alone Belle, okay?”

Belle simply nodded, unable to form words, and Ruby hugged and her and went back to work. Belle sat, a heavy weight on her shoulders and closed her eyes. She gave herself a moment before returning to an ancient magic book. 

Emma returned in the afternoon with Snow, who had a break in the middle of the school day.

“I put in another missing person’s reports but still got nothing,” Emma said.

“They were taken by magic. We’ll need magic to get them back,” Belle replied, returning books to the shelves.

“Well, they’ve taken the author and the two most knowledgeable, and let’s be frank, powerful people we know,” Snow continued, “Our locator spell didn’t work, probably wasn’t even done correctly, we need a new plan.”

“I’ll find something,” Belle said, “Rumple has hundreds of books – something has to be in one of them.”

Emma put her hands to her head and grabbed her hair. “I hate this!” she yelled. “I hate being so powerless.”

Snow hugged her. “Just keep practicing your magic, Emma. We’ll find a way. We _always_ find a way.”

They had had this conversation, almost verbatim, every day. Truly, they were getting nowhere. Rumple, Henry, and Regina could be _anywhere_ , at any time, in any realm. Henry’s book and Rumple’s dagger were also missing, discoveries that added to the sinister feeling over the whole situation. Snow would always try to change the subject as she helped Belle search through Rumple’s notes, using her sunny disposition to bring up the mood. Belle smiled at the right times and Emma nodded like she was listening, but eventually, Emma became frustrated with the lack of progress and stormed out and Snow returned to teach her last class. Belle was usually left alone for the afternoon, which was good, because she used the time for research. At 4:30 she would lock up, pick up Gideon, and return home. He would have a bubble bath, dinner, and she would read him books. Then, before bed, they would go through the special photo album that Belle had ordered for Gideon online. It was full of pictures of Rumple and Gideon, and some of Rumple and Belle, and Gideon would go through each page. He would pick one photo each night and Belle would tell the story behind the picture and remind Gideon how much his papa loved and missed him.

She would put him to bed, then, singing softly to him until his eyes closed and he slept soundly. She kissed his smooth cheek and closed the door behind her, going downstairs to clean up and nibble at honeydew melon, the only food she could consistently keep down.

At 7:30 there was a knock at the door. Belle had tried to forget her night’s plan, but it was here regardless, a quiet Ruby holding a white bag, the red letters spelling out, “Dark Star Pharmacy.”

“I told Granny we were having a girl’s night,” she said as she held up a bottle of pineapple vodka in one hand, a bagged pregnancy test in the other.

“You really know what to bring to a party,” Belle said as she took the test.

“One shot before?”

Belle shook her head.

“Fine, I’ll take two and have you in mind,” she said as she went to the cabinet to take a shot gloss. “Want me to stay or leave, Belles?”

“Stay… I don’t think I want to face this alone.”

Ruby nodded as she threw back a shot. Belle walked to the bathroom and closed the door behind her. With a deep breath she opened the test, took it, and watched as the screen on the test slowly revealed two blue lines. She opened the door to see Ruby, looking knowingly. Belle simply nodded, tears falling. Ruby wrapped her arms around her.

“Welcome or unwelcome, Belles?”

“Welcome, always welcome. Just… an unwelcome time.”

Ruby stepped back and led Belle to the couch.

“I’m not ready to tell anyone yet…”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

Belle sat crossed legged, holding a pillow, tears streaming down. She wiped them away, apologizing. “I don’t even know if these tears are happy or sad.” She reached over to the coffee table, a leather-bound book in an ancient tongue book marked about half way through. Ruby put her hand over Belle.

“Take a break Belle. You read this stuff all day and all night. Let’s watch something funny! Oh! Let me paint your nails and we’ll have a sleepover!” Ruby took the book and moved it to the dining room table. “It will be there tomorrow, Belle, I promise. Let’s have fun tonight!” Belle meant to argue, but couldn’t conjure the energy, so she complied, and Ruby got up to get Belle’s nail polish. She took two more shots in the kitchen (why not?) and picked the least love centered, funniest movie she could find (“Dodgeball” was on demand, thank the gods). She took Belle’s feet and started painting, “Essie: Bikini So Teeny,” a light cornflower blue. Belle sat quietly chewing on her bottom lip. The movie played in the background, Ruby laughing intermittently, Belle offering light smiles.  Both women had their toes drying on the coffee table, Belle sipping tea, Ruby sipping vodka. The movie ended and Ruby shut off the television and went into the kitchen. Reaching to the back of the freezer, beyond the chicken nuggets and fish sticks, Ruby found a tub of chocolate ice cream. She drizzled syrup and grabbed two spoons and returned to the couch. Belle was standing but Ruby pushed her back down.

“I think I’m going to head to bed,” Belle said, standing again. Ruby shoved her down, sitting right next to her. She passed her the spoon.

“Rubes, I’m going to throw this up in about seven hours.”

“Better enjoy it now then!”

Ruby reached over to check her phone. She rolled her eyes and said,

“Viktor called me twice.”

“Why are you even dating him again?”

Taking a heaping spoon fool, Ruby shrugged. “Who else is there, really? At least he has a good job.”

Belle wasn’t one to judge, being married to the Dark One and all, so she just made a face as if to say that Ruby deserved better.

“Is he treating you well?”

Ruby thought. “I guess. He took me to Marco's restaurant last night. Of course, he made at least three perverted comments and tried to feel me up under the table. Twice.”

“You don’t sound too upset about it.”

Ruby laughed. “He wants me to come over later. I’ll tell him I’m having a sleepover but I won’t say with who… oh, I’ll put a little wink face. Andddd, now I’ll ignore him,” Ruby said with a smirk.

Belle licked her spoon and returned it to the tub.

“What if I can’t find him before the baby’s born?”

Ruby grabbed her hand. “Then you’ll raise the baby the way you’ve been raising Gideon. With love and with strength and with joy. You’re amazing and have been through much harder tests than this. Look how well you’re doing! Gideon is still happy even though he misses his dad. You’ll do the same for this baby. And I know you’ll find him eventually, Belle.”

Belle nodded. She knew she could do it alone. It would just be nice, she thought, if she didn’t have to.

The ice cream finished, Ruby went to the bathroom to wash up. She made her way to the guest room and gave Belle a big hug.

“I’m off in the morning, so I’ll meet you at the library and look through books with you. I know you and Gideon like to wake up before the gods but I plan on sleeping in.” The women parted ways and Belle went into he room where she put on Rumple’s pajamas and climbed to his side of the bed. She closed her eyes, and like always, softly cried herself to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up: Regina wakes and Weaver's internal struggle continues.


	4. Awake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regina wakes, confused as ever, and Weaver continues in his internal struggle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I thank you so much for the "kudos" and comments. I can't thank you enough.
> 
> There are some spoilers for season 7, specifically from the episode, "Wake Up Call"
> 
> I don't own "Once Upon a Time" or the characters, but you never know, maybe one day I will. But probably not.

It was an uncomfortable feeling, being woken. There were all these cursed memories that felt real and then all the actual memories that she knew were real. Regina rubbed at her temples and poured herself a drink. Ivy sat on a bar stool, staring at her silently, while Regina slowly made connections in her brain. Minutes passed and finally, Regina looked at Ivy and said,

“Who cast this curse?”

“I’m not… sure,” she replied skeptically, which made Regina think she _did_ know but didn’t want to say. “But it can’t be broken. I know that. Henry _can’t_ wake,” Ivy finished.

“So why wake me?”

“You told me to.”

“What?”

“It… it doesn’t matter. You’re awake. And we have to make sure Henry stays asleep.”

None of this made sense, although something in Regina’s mind told her it should.

“Gold?” Regina asked.

Now it was Ivy who was confused.

“Weaver,” Regina corrected herself seeing Ivy's face. “Is he awake?”

“No, no. The curse was written so that only I was awake, I think, and could wake you. But he doesn’t need to be awake. You have the dagger and can control him to save Henry. Even as Weaver, he’ll be compelled to obey.”

Regina groaned. _She_ had the dagger? No, she most certainly did not. At least she could not remember having it. She was awake, but not fully, there were gaps in her memory. For instance, she couldn’t recall who had cast the curse or why. She didn’t understand what Ivy was talking about in terms of Henry. In fact, she barely remembered meeting Ivy in the other world, so why on earth would she trust her enough to grant her the power of waking her? She pinched the bridge of her nose. She’d have to figure out a way to wake Weaver, at least partially if that was possible. She couldn’t do this alone and something was telling her that contacting Storybrooke wasn’t an option. Not wanting to come across as confused or clueless as she was, Regina simply said,

  
“Thank you for waking me. The plan will go on as usual.”

“We’re in danger I think.” Ivy responded. “That’s why I woke you.”

“From whom?”

“I’m… I’m not sure. Just a feeling.”

“Uh huh. I’ll take care of it from here. You can check in as you see fit.”

Ivy knew she was being dismissed so she took her leave, the door slamming shut behind her. Once alone, Regina shut her eyes tight trying to fill in the gaps of her memories. She was grateful to be awake but lost as ever.

 _What the hell is going on?_ she thought.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Weaver was convinced that he had died the previous night for surely this was hell. Rogers sat in the passenger seat going on and on about… well, Weaver wasn’t even sure. They had been driving around for approximately an hour, the cacophonous drone of Rogers’s voice and his sporadic high pitch chuckles eventually made Weaver stop the car suddenly.

“You know, sometimes it’s better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and remove all doubt."

Rogers stared him silently, his mouth slightly agape.

“Ahh,” Weaver continued looking relieved, “Much better, lad.”

The rest of the day continued without action, handing out two speeding tickets and one citation for an expired food truck license. They returned to the station after their patrolling was complete to find Henry Mills waiting for them.

“Mr. Mills, what can we do for you?” Weaver asked, leading Henry to his office. Weaver sat behind his desk, Rogers standing, Henry sitting in a seat across from Weaver.

“I was just wondering if there was any progress on my case. The, uh, the book. It's been a few weeks. I was wondering if there was any news.”

Weaver noticed that Henry seemed agitated and, possibly, a little embarrassed.

“No sign of your book, no fingerprints at the scene, no clues on our end as to who did this or where it might be. It hasn’t turned up on any online auction or store – we would have been alerted.”

“Oh. Oh, well… thank you.” Henry said as he stood up to shake Weaver’s hand. Weaver felt bad for the boy, for that’s what he was truly, just a boy, and asked, “Why is it so important to you?”

Henry smiled a bit and said, “I grew up with it. It’s why I’m a writer. And now, I have this… this… writer’s block and I feel like it’s because I don’t have that book.”

“You’ve published a book, yes?”

Henry nodded. “Yeah, it’s called “Once”. It’s kind of a spin on fairy tales.”

“Fairy tales?”

“Yeah, you know, like “Beauty and the Beast”."

“Charming, I’m sure,” Weaver said sarcastically.

“Yeah, them too.” Henry said, misunderstanding Weaver.

“Well, why not just focus on the stories there and use that. Meanwhile, we’ll contact you if anything pops up.”

Henry thanked them again and left. Rogers opened his mouth to say something, but Weaver put his hand up. “Don’t remove all doubt, Rogers.” Rogers closed his mouth and left to his own desk and Weaver sat back down. He never liked fantasy books, in fact, he had never been much of a reader to his recollection, but he found himself online reading reviews from Henry Mills’s book. He almost ordered it but glanced at the time and realized his shift was over. Though he often stayed until after clock out, Weaver stood and walked out, getting in his car and driving to Roni’s for a drink.

It was still light outside so Weaver was relieved but not surprised to find the bar empty. He sat in his usual seat at the bar and Roni poured him a glass of whiskey. He drank it in one swig, the alcohol burning his throat.

“You drink too much,” Roni (well, Regina really) said as she poured him another.

“Says the woman who is pouring me more.”

“Why do you drink?”

“Why do you think?” he asked rhetorically, finishing the whiskey and sliding the glass over. She poured him a third and looked right at him.

“Because you miss your wife.”

 _So that’s what it feels like to be sucker punched,_ he thought. It was all wrong, something about this was all wrong. He pulled cash from his pocket and slammed it on the counter before walking off.

Roni called after him, “What was her name?”

Weaver had his hand on the door ready to go out when he stopped.

“Your wife, Detective. _What. Was. Her. Name?_ "

He pushed the door open and walked outside, the chilly breeze hitting his face. He brought his hands up a bit touching his wedding ring.  _Why can’t I remember her name?_ he thought. Leaving his car, he sprinted home, trying to keep his mind distracted, intending to drink himself into a stupor at home. Fate had other plans because instead of alcohol he found Alice sitting on his counter, swinging her legs and eating stale crackers from a box.

Weaver closed his eyes and said, “I’m in hell.”

“Nope,” Alice said smiling.  “You’re home. Well, not really home. This ain't your home at all. Home is where the heart is, they say, and your heart ain’t here.”

Weaver ignored her going into his cabinet to fetch the alcohol. He opened one cabinet only to find it empty and another and another.

“Where’s my alcohol?” Weaver asked.

Alice took a bite of a cracker causing crumbs to fall all over her. “I got rid of it.”  Then, to stress her next point, she shoved him with her pointer finger in the chest with each word. “You’re. Welcome.”

“I will kill you,” he said.

“No, you won’t.”

“ _Slowly_.”

She hopped off the counter and stood right in front of him.

“Belle,” she said. “Your wife’s name is Belle.”

Weaver’s heart tugged at the sound of that name.

“Was. Her name _was_ Belle,” he whispered, his stomach in knots.

“Is, was, it’s still her name, ain’t it? Stay sober tonight, won’t ya, Detective? You never know what you’ll remember.”

 _I don’t want to remember,_ he thought.

“Sure you do,” Alice replied, as if she could read his thoughts. “You just think you don’t. But it ain’t real, can’t you see? It ain’t real.”

“What isn’t?”

“Any of this.” She said, her arms out, gesturing around the apartment. “All of this. None of this.” Alice headed toward the fire escape and put one leg out. Before descending she yelled out, “His name is Gideon and he misses you somethin' awful.” Alice was gone then, and Weaver grabbed the counter as he let a sob escape. He wanted nothing more than to drink, right then, drink until he couldn’t see anymore. But his apartment was dry and he did not think he could leave and purchase anything at the moment. He dragged himself to the couch where, although relatively early, he could feel the beginnings of slumber overtake him. He forced his eyes open and concentrated on his wife’s name, his son’s name. He could not bear to dream of them tonight, and resigned himself to stay awake.

 


	5. Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle and the others finally get the information they need and head to Hyperion Heights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the "kudos" and comments - it means a lot to me!
> 
> I do not own "Once Upon a Time" or any of the characters.

It’s a funny thing, time. A day can drag on, seemingly endless, the clock barely moving as the work day passed. But, then, years pass so quickly, in a blur of moments. Gideon was entering first grade, a little man, a red Superman backpack ready at the door for the first day of school.  His sister waddled after him, a chubby little thing with curly brown pigtails and her father’s chocolate eyes. Gideon was always patient with her and Belle found herself lucky that he never experienced a moment of jealousy, though all her books said he would. As a result, he was the light of his sister’s life, and preferred him to anyone, calling his name (“Gid-dee!”) each morning from her crib.

Belle had become quite proficient in ancient glyphs, barely needing Rumple’s notes to translate anymore. Scanning each page of her husband’s books was something she could do half asleep now. Unfortunately, she had gone through dozens and dozens of literature without finding anything of much use. Emma had even left Storybrooke for a bit, traveling to Europe and Asia, visiting ancient sites where old magic was known to linger. The hope was that she would find something, learn something, that could help them. She came back empty handed and disappointed.

Belle was not the same person who had woken to find her husband missing. She transformed from a victim into a survivor, living each day to the fullest, determined to be happy. Meditating each morning for a half an hour helped, as did the parent-child yoga class she took with her kids on Wednesday after she closed the library. She had a standing babysitter every other Friday and would go out with Ruby to dance and play pool and forget for a night that her love was not with her. At the University of Maine’s online program, Belle had almost completed a degree in English literature. She held her head high as she walked through Storybrooke, smiling at friends, and taking her kids to Granny’s for Sunday dinner. The nights were hard, of course, and she found that she still quietly cried late into the evening after her kids were asleep. It wasn’t every night, though, and though Belle’s heart ached for him, she learned how to be without him. It was a half-life, truly, but she did the best she could.

Keeping Rumple a part of their lives was important, so Belle still went through the photo album with her kids each night. Gideon memorized the stories behind the photographs, and they would take turns telling them to the baby while she sucked her thumb and touched the pictures of a father she had never met. On Sundays, Belle would take the kids to Rumple’s shop for an hour to dust and tell stories of the objects she knew about. She also took the opportunity to search for something helpful, but the truth was, Belle barely understood most of the items.

And so, the time passed. Belle took pictures of Gideon getting on the bus for the first time, heading off the Storybrooke Elementary’s first grade. After dropping the baby off at the day care, Belle opened up the library. There were no returns to shelve and no schools were visiting as it was the first day, so Belle thought this slow period might be a good time to place a new order of books. She had noted that some of the middle school aged children who had visited the previous week asked for more fantasy. There hadn’t been a shipment of fantasy books in a while – understandably, it was the least requested genre. Belle couldn’t even remember the last time she ordered, it must be have been years ago she reckoned. Opening up the website where Belle generally ordered from, she checked the budget to make sure she had enough to order. Happy with the number in the account, Belle looked through the top selling fantasy books in the last few years, specifically for young adults. Scrolling absent mindedly while sneaking chocolate from her drawer, Belle almost choked when an author’s name jumped out at her.

_Henry Mills_

She clicked on his name and saw that he had published one book, about three years ago, called “Once” and its description told of a “retelling of the fairy tales you _thought_ you knew”.

“Oh my gods,” Belle gasped, feeling her heart race. Grabbing her phone, she texted the group, “I think I found something!” and called Emma in a hurry, her fingers shaking as she searched through her contacts. On the third ring, Emma picked up.

“Emma? I think I found something!”

“I’ll be there in 5,” Emma said, but she came rushing through in two, Hook in tow. Belle said nothing, she was too overwhelmed to speak, and simply turned the computer monitor to face Emma.

“That’s him… that has to be him,” Emma said in wonder. Belle walked back around the desk, quickly Google-ing his name. Oddly, nothing came up. “That’s strange,” she said. She tried again, this time adding the words, “author of Once,” and a thousand hits showed up. “Maybe it’s part of the curse,” Belle said, “to make it harder to find him.” Emma nodded and pointed to the first link. Belle clicked navigating through the website. It stated that Henry Mills lived in Washington state but not much else. They spent another twenty minutes looking but weren’t shocked when they didn’t find more than that. He probably wouldn’t want his address on the internet, especially seeing that he was a famous author.

“How did we not see this before?” Hook asked

“Maybe the curse?” Belle suggested again. “I haven’t ordered fantasy in years. Maybe if I would have…” Belle became wrought with guilt and frustration. “I’ve been going through magic books for years! And the answer was here all along!” she yelled, pointing at the computer.

“No, Belle, this isn’t your fault. And we found him now, that’s what matters. The person who cast it, they were sloppy. They missed this. That means they could have missed other things too.” There was a pause and Emma concluded, “I’m going to Washington.”

“I’m going with you, love,” Hook added.

“Me too,” Belle said. “I’ll ask the David and Snow to watch my kids. I’m sure Ruby and Granny will help.” Belle booked a two-week trip online (Emma and Hook’s was open ended) while Belle made phone calls and arranged childcare. They would be leaving that night at 10.

Belle spoke with Gideon gently, explaining that she was leaving for a little for school. She hated to lie but didn’t want to bring his hopes up. Kissing and hugging her kids, she dropped them by the Charmings, Snow giving her a tight hug and wishing her luck. Ruby drove them to the airport outside of Storybrooke, chattering about, keeping Belle, Emma, and Hook sufficiently distracted. Before leaving, Ruby shoved a tiny pink bag in Belle’s hand.

“For when you find him,” she said quietly with a wink. Belle moved the tissue paper aside and saw something black and lacey and laughed. “You’re welcome,” Ruby whispered with a smile. “Tell everyone I said hi,” she called out before driving off.  Belle had never been on a flight before and her initial feeling was still that she wished Rumple was there to experience this with her. She sat in a row with Emma and Hook, Belle at the window seat, Emma in the middle, and breathed deeply. There were so many feelings surging through Belle that she didn’t even know what to process first. Beyond everything expected, there was also a new worry that had crawled out of her subconscious. What if, in this new curse, he was married to someone else? What if he loved someone else? The thought made Belle nauseous and she took out the bag the airplane provided for fear she might vomit.

“Air sick?” Emma asked

“No, it’s… well, it’s stupid really,” Belle said, tucking an escaped curl behind her ear.

“This is all pretty overwhelming. I’m sure whatever you’re feeling isn’t stupid,” Emma said

“It’s just… do you think… what if, in this curse, he loves somebody else?”

Emma let out a laugh. “Yeah, you were right. It’s stupid,” Emma said. Belle’s blue eyes widened and Emma added, “Belle, even cursed, you’re the only one he’ll ever love. Remember my parents? Not even a curse was powerful enough to keep them apart. Besides,” Emma added with a hint of humor, “who else could tolerate him?”

That quelled Belle’s anxiety and she spent the next hour journaling. She stopped only when Emma nudged her.

“Let’s come up with a plan, when we find Henry. I think… I think we should find him and then watch him for a bit. See what intel we can gather. Make sure he’s safe. Something feels wrong about just trying to wake him.”

Belle nodded. “And Rumple?” Emma got serious.

“Wake him, Belle. Wake him the hell up as fast as you can.”

They landed a few hours later, though because of the time change it was the middle of the night. They rented a car – a little blue Toyota – and drove to the nearest police station. Emma was in and out in under seven minutes, holding a piece of paper.

“I got his address,” she said. “He lives in Hyperion Heights about two hours from here.”

“I’ll drive,” Hook said. “You ladies sleep”

Emma made a face and got into the driver’s seat. Belle was already booking rooms on her phone at “Xenia,” a well rated hotel in Hyperion Heights. Emma drove quickly and it was nearing 3 AM when they checked in to the hotel. Sleep would have been welcome but with adrenaline coursing through her body it seemed unlikely, so Belle downloaded Henry’s book onto the Kindle on her phone and finished it as the sun rose. They grabbed a quick coffee before Emma drove to Apollo Apartments and parked across the street, toward the end of the block.

“Now what?” Belle asked

“Now, we wait.”

Belle had never been to a stakeout before, but she found it to be exceedingly boring. Two hours passed with nothing. It was barely 8 AM and Henry was probably still asleep, especially if his curse persona was anything like his real one. Finally, as lunch time drew close, Belle said, “I can’t sit here anymore. I’m going out.”

Emma looked Belle up and down. She was dressed practically in jeans, tall black boots, and a mint green turtleneck sweater. She wore a gray fleecy jacket over it and her hair was piled on top of her head in a bun, loose tendrils flying about, with a thick gray sweater headband. A black leather crossbody bag held her phone and wallet.

“You look inconspicuous enough,” Emma said. “Stay under the radar – don’t be noticeable. And if you find Gold – follow him for a bit. See if you can learn anything.”

Belle nodded. “I’ll stay in touch,” she said.

Belle got out of the car and started walking with no particular rhyme or reason to her direction. It was cloudy and cold with this damp feeling that she would never be fully dry. Making her way to the main street, she looked around for a place to eat, settling on a coffee shop and bakery with neat black script letters reading, “Two Birds, One Scone.” The counter up front displayed salads and muffins and parfaits and Belle grabbed a yogurt with berries and granola. She ordered a green tea with honey and sat facing the window. Belle’s stomach was in knots and she could only tolerate two spoons of the yogurt but finished the tea with gusto and made her way out again. A text from Hook came in saying that they had seen Henry and were attempting to follow him. Belle said a silent prayer and continued to wander before she was overcome with the distinct feeling that she was being shadowed. Looking behind her and walking faster, Belle did not see anything suspicious, but she still had that troubling feeling that she was being watched. Seeing a park ahead, Belle walked toward an empty bench and checked her phone. Nothing new yet, so Belle put it back in her small purse and rubbed her face with her hands.

“Now, how did you get here?” a girl said, plopping herself next to Belle. “You’re not supposed to be here, though I’m more surprised you weren’t here sooner.”

Belle looked at her, one eyebrow raised.

“They said you were smart but I’m not seein’ that. It was all done so quickly. She were careless, you see, and then the other one tried to fix it and you know, I thought you’d come sooner.”

“Do I know you?” Belle finally asked.

“No, I don’t expect you do.” Alice answered turning from Belle and looking straight ahead, her knees bouncing. “Roni’s opens at 4 but her door is usually unlocked.”

“What’s Roni’s?”

“A bar”

“I don’t drink,” Belle replied.

Alice huffed and rolled her eyes. “She _swore_ to the gods you were smart.”

Belle simply looked at her, and slowly said. “ _I_ don’t drink. But _he_ does.”

“There’s that brain she promised me.” Alice said poking Belle’s head.

“Who are you?”

“It doesn’t matter, yet, does it?” She said and she got up and walked off.

Belle stood and asked the first person she saw how to get to Roni’s. It was easy enough, on the south end of town. Putting her hands in her pockets she walked quickly. She found it, finally, and though the bar was clearly closed she pushed the door open and saw the back of a woman with short hair and a lot of leather counting bottles.

“Excuse me,” Belle said, and the woman slowly turned revealing herself to be Regina.

“Regina!” Belle exclaimed hurrying over for a hug, relief and joy overtaking her.

“Belle,” Regina exhaled. “You found us.”

They embraced, Belle’s eyes leaking tears, and they walked around to sit at the bar.

“Gold’s okay,” Regina began. “He’s here and he’s safe. A police detective, if you can believe it.”

A sob left Belle’s throat and she covered her mouth with her hands as she began to cry. She took tissues from her purse and apologized. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Belle repeated. Belle regained her composure and, wiping her face, spit out, “Awake?”

“No,” Regina answered. “I thought maybe he would be, he’s always awake, but no. He seems to be genuinely asleep.” Regina wasn’t sure if she should continue, but she did anyway, knowing if the roles were reversed she would want to know. “He thinks you’re dead. You and Gideon. A fire…” Regina continued, squinting her eyes and looking beyond Belle, recalling Roni’s cursed memories. “His cursed self wasn’t supposed to remember you other than being dead, but it didn’t transfer well.” She was speaking slowly, the cursed information that she didn’t even realize she knew coming out, “He… he wasn’t supposed to remember you at all, but he does, in fragments. He won’t recognize you. But he’s tortured with pain and the unhappiest I’ve ever seen him.” Regina grabbed an errant bottle on the counter and reached over the bar for two glasses. “And the gods know, I’ve witnessed the man unhappy.”

Belle shook her head. “Of course, he won’t recognize me…”

“No,” Regina said sadly.

“Do you know what’s going on, Regina?”

Regina took a deep breath. “Not really. There are gaps in my memory. I remember the curse being cast, I remember it was rushed and incompetently written. I remember trying to fix the spell but there wasn’t enough time. I remember knowing that the rest of Storybrooke was safe. And I know that Henry can’t be woken yet.”

Belle took out her phone, quickly typing that she had found Regina – Roni – and that Emma was right, Henry should not be woken. Emma called then and spoke to Regina for a bit and it wasn’t long before Emma and Hook made their way to the bar.  They compared notes and discussed plans. Belle privately messaged Snow and Ruby, meanwhile, updating them without much detail. She also told her tale with the blonde girl in the park, Regina telling her that this was good, because she’ll report back to Rumple. Finally, it was getting close to the time where Regina would open up.

“I’m usually empty until about eight,” she said as she flipped the outside sign to ‘open’. “Emma, Hook, you shouldn’t be seen. Especially Hook, seeing as his doppelganger is here.”

“We’ll stay close but hidden,” Emma said as she and Hook left. “We’ll be in touch.”

Regina turned to Belle, “Gold - Detective Weaver, here - hasn’t been here in a couple of weeks,” she said. “But hopefully Alice reported back to him and he’ll show up. Take a seat in that booth,” Regina stated, pointing to a lone booth in a quiet corner. “He’ll be able to see you from the stool he likes but it’s still hidden from most of the bar.” Belle took a glass of water and went to sit, shivering with nerves, she downloaded “Her Handsome Hero” onto her phone’s Kindle to read.

As the clock struck six, the door opened with Regina’s first customer. It was raining and Weaver wiped the rain off his jacket’s sleeves. Sitting on his favorite stool, Regina poured him a glass as if nothing had changed. Sliding it over, Weaver turned the glass in his hands, as he looked around. The place was empty of course, except… except for a pile of curls, twists of hair that framed a face that jogged his brain, like a memory he should have but couldn’t grasp. There was a pull to her, like an invisible leash, and he found himself walking toward her before he had even decided to go. He stood there, next to her booth, as she read something on her phone.

“Have we met before?” he asked and she looked up, big blue eyes that made his stomach lurch.

“Oh,” she said blushing with a hint of jest. “I would never forget meeting you.”


	6. Blind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Weaver's perspective, the morning before he meets a blue eyed stranger who seems awfully familiar...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left "kudos" and comments. It really means a lot to me!

Two weeks had passed since Weaver was last at Roni’s, since Alice said his wife’s name and rambled cryptically, leaving through the fire escape with a last message about his son. He had barely slept since then, passing out only after he drank enough alcohol to sedate a horse. Alice would not be pleased, Weaver thought, as he restocked his cabinets with glass bottles of whiskey and scotch. A few were hidden in his room, one even in the bathroom, in case Alice showed up, but he hadn’t seen her in those weeks either.  His dreams had been worse since hearing her name, since hearing his name. The dreams were vivid and odd, and she died each time in them. He never saw her, he just learned of her death _over and over_. She jumped, he was told, she jumped from a tower. The most bizarre thing was that it was Roni who had told him she jumped. Roni, but not Roni, with hair tied tightly back with long straight tresses hanging down and wearing a black dress that belonged to a different time. And Weaver would wake, thrashing, and drenched in sweat. His heart would be in his throat and anger seeped out of him, making him want to smash everything in the room. After washing his face, he would head to his couch where he put on bad TV and would drink more, only to fall asleep and experience her death all over again. He was breaking under the weight of his loss and he didn’t know how much longer he could bear it.

Morning came and Weaver dressed in his usual button down and jeans, stopping for an extra large coffee (three espresso shots, extra cream) on the way. He considered getting food but didn’t think he could keep much down, his stomach still churning from last night’s scotch consumption. He patrolled in the morning, answering one domestic abuse call that didn’t seem all that worthy of police involvement and managed to snap at Rogers only twice. In the afternoon, Weaver left to pick up a late lunch, a poppy seed kaiser roll with butter and a chocolate chip cookie. He took another coffee to go, leaving the bakery and almost bumping into a masked Alice who screamed “BOO!” startling Weaver.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked.

She pushed back the rabbit mask so that it rested on her head.

“You almost spilled my coffee,” he continued through gritted teeth.

“A real loss on the world that would be, eh?”

He walked around her, heading back to the station. She quickly caught up and went in front of him, walking backwards.

“There’s someone new in town,” she said. “I know you like to know.”

Weaver stopped. There were rarely new people in Hyperion Heights and he had told Alice to keep a look out.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah”

“Any information?”

Alice shrugged, snatching his cookie and taking a bite.

“You can see for yourself tonight at Roni’s.” She returned his cookie and ran off, scaling a metal fence and jumping down. Weaver shook his head and continued walking. The thought of returning to Roni’s was unpleasant at best, but he concluded that if he didn’t respond to her goading questions there wouldn’t be a problem. He finished his shift and drove to Roni’s. Walking in, he sat in his usual seat as Roni poured him a drink. She turned to face him and he had a flash of her from his dream and another one, one he hadn’t seen before, where she was dressed like now but with longer hair standing in front him with a blonde woman. It was over before it began and Weaver concluded he must be losing it. Roni slid the drink over and he turned the glass in his hands looking around. There was no one except… except a woman, a stranger, hidden in a corner. But there was a pull… he hadn’t even made the conscious decision to get up when he found himself walking over, his body betraying his mind. He would have sworn they met before at the same time he would swear he had never seen her in his life. It was like his brain was foggy and divided and everything was unclear.

“Have we met before?” he asked, and she looked up at him, sapphire eyes and perfect skin, and he felt like he should remember… _something_.

“Oh,” she said blushing with a hint of jest. “I would never forget meeting you,” she replied with an accent he wouldn’t soon forget.

He sat down without breaking eye contact and she set the phone down. Weaver could feel his heart rate rise and he had the overwhelming urge to cup this woman’s face with his hands and kiss her. Confused as ever, he dismissed the thought and introduced himself.

“I’m Detective Weaver,” he said, startled when his brogue came out thicker than usual.

“So I’ve heard,” she answered.

He smirked, the corners of his mouth twitching in that familiar way that made Belle’s heart clench. “And what about you? Don’t you have a name?”

“Of course I do.”

“Would you like to tell me?”

“Not particularly. But you’re welcome to guess.”

He laughed at that and said, “And what do I get if I guess correctly?”

She shrugged. “My first born?”

Grinning he asked her, “So, you’re Rumpelstiltskin, then?”

The woman smiled and Weaver found that it made him feel genuinely happy to see her like that. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt joy – it honestly took him a minute to identify the feeling – and he wondered for a moment why this stranger’s happiness should affect him in the least.

“Not me,” she finally said. “But I know him.”

“Do you now?”

“Oh, I do.”

“Well, if you won’t tell me your name, will you tell me what brings you here?” he asked, turning around and motioning for Roni to bring them drinks. “I can’t imagine you’re here for your friend Rumpelstiltskin.”

“You would be surprised,” she answered and leaned her head forward whispering, “And he’s more than a friend.”

Roni came over with two glasses and poured them each a half a glass of whiskey. Roni and the woman exchanged looks and then they were alone again, he and the woman with eyes that bore through him. Her fingers circled the rim of the glass.

“Don’t tell me you don’t drink, Ms. Rumpelstiltskin.”

Her face looked a bit surprised for a moment before she began to laugh, deep giggles that made her eyes tear. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she said. “You just don’t know how funny that is.”

He tossed back his drink and took hers. “Cheers,” he said. She stood, and he found himself hoping she wouldn’t leave – he didn’t want to let her go – but to his relief she simply walked around the table and sat next to him, shoving him gently until they were both sitting comfortably beside one another. Turning to face him, she placed a hand on the table and he noticed a thin gold wedding band.

“You’re married?” He asked.

“Yes,” she whispered moving her face closer to his.

“Husband?”

“Lost” she said quietly, her mouth so close to his he could feel her breath.

“My wife, too” he breathed.

“ _No,”_ the woman said _, “she isn’t_ ,” and her lips parted. His eyes were shut and he almost closed the gap between them before drawing back suddenly.

“I… I can’t do this,” he said and began to move his body, forcing her to stand up. He raced out of Roni’s slamming the door on his way out. Speeding home, he thought of nothing but her eyes as he tried to suppress his guilt. She was light, this woman, light he didn’t deserve. How could he betray his wife like that? His dead wife who his heart still beat for. He was the worst kind of monster and deserved the agony the nightmares ahead would surely cause.

Weaver downed enough alcohol that night to risk death but he didn’t care. He smashed the empty bottle against the counter, sending glass everywhere and cutting his hand. It felt good, the slice across his palm, the blood streaming down. Passing out on the couch, he dreamed not of his wife’s death, but of the woman in the bar. She wore an ornate gold dress and curtsied and when Weaver woke he smiled before the throbbing migraine of a hangover took over. He was a mess and for the first time in… Weaver couldn’t recall exactly how long… but for the first time, Weaver called in sick. The chief was surprised and there was a hint of concern in his voice, but Weaver hung up before he could ask anything. After showering and sloppily wrapping his hand, Weaver put on his coat to leave when he heard knocking at the window.

“Oi! Lemme in, will you?”

“I have a door,” he said as he opened the window.

“O’ course you do,” Alice said, tapping his cheek with her hand. She walked into the kitchen, gingerly stepping over glass, and opened the fridge to find an almost empty carton of half and half and a bag of rolls.

“Don’t you eat?” she asked. Looking at the floor she said, “I guess you met her.”

“What do you know about her?”

She walked over, her finger trailing the counter. “It’s dusty, Detective, and there’s glass everywhere. You should really get someone to clean your… rather large estate. Was that a double entendre? I've always wanted to know.”

Weaver exhaled, exasperated, his expression showing that he wanted Alice to answer his damn question. Alice pursed her lips and looked toward the ceiling. “What do you want to know?”

“Who is she?” Weaver asked sounding more desperate than he had intended.

“Ha! You’re asking me?”

“Who else should I ask?”

“Her? _Yourself_?”

“Alice, stop with the riddles. Who is this woman?”

Alice walked over to him and placed both hands on his face. “She’s where you keep your heart, Rumple.”

 _Rumple_? he thought. _What the hell is this insane girl talking about?_

Weaver removed Alice’s hand and stepped back. “Are you off your meds again?”

“Depends on what you mean by ‘off.’”

Weaver’s brows creased with frustration. “I mean did you stop putting your pills in your mouth and swallowing them.”

“Oh, yes, but only because I can’t see when I’m on them. I’m asleep. But now I’m awake, see? You could be awake too, but you refuse to open your eyes.”

Weaver grabbed her upper arms and shook her a bit. “Take your pills, Alice! They’re for your own good. You’re rambling like a mad woman.” He put on his coat and pulled out his wallet handing Alice one hundred dollars in cash. “Go to the pharmacy and pick up your meds.”

Alice took the money and saluted him. “Aye, aye, sir.”

“I’ll check on you later, you hear?”

She nodded, winked, and left through the window. Weaver heard her stomp down but then back up again. Alice put her head through his window and said, “Give her another chance, won’t ya? You don't have to be blind. Belle only wants you to be happy,” and then she disappeared again.

Weaver spent most of the day walking up and down the city, collecting thoughts and trying to clear the fog in his mind. As the sun began to set, Weaver found his legs leading him to Roni’s.  He opened the door and walked over, taking the drink from Roni and sitting at the booth where they were yesterday, waiting for her to return. Three whiskeys later she waltzed in wearing a navy dressed that hugged her curves and heels about four inches high. Her hair was done in thick waves, framing her face perfectly. Walking right over to him she said, “You came back.”

“Aye” he said, motioning for her to sit across from him. Her eyes followed his hand and she seemed to consider it before sitting next to him.

There was something different about her tonight, he noted, and he felt even more drawn to her.

“I’ve always believed,” she started, her hand reaching up to trace the center of chest, “if I do the brave thing, bravery would follow.”

He reached up to stroke her cheek without thinking - his body seemed to have a mind of its own with her.

“Come back to my place,” he said softly and she nodded. They stood and he took her hand in his own, noting that nothing in his memory had ever felt so right. He pulled her to the back door and out, lacing his fingers through hers and leading her back to his apartment. The whole while, his heart raced and fluttered, but his mind, for the first time, was blank. Up the stairs and into his apartment, he didn’t even bother to turn on the lights before he turned to face her.


	7. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumple is awake...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: this chapter contains a bit of smut
> 
> Thank you for the "kudos" and comments - it means a lot!

He turned to face her, one arm leaning against the inside of the door, the other stroking her cheek. There was a palpable electricity between them and after a moment she made the final decision by grasping his shirt and bringing her mouth to his.

Their lips brushed gently. They were barely even touching when Weaver’s mind exploded, and he grabbed his head with both hands falling to his knees. A loud groan of anguish escaped as a million memories flooded him. He was an unloved boy, an unloved man, a spinner, a father, the Dark One. He was Mr. Gold, he was a husband, a villain, a hero, and a father again. He was tucking his son into bed and making love to his wife and waking up as Weaver. When it was over, his hands fell and he opened his eyes. She was kneeling with him, one hand massaging his arm gently.

“Belle?” he asked hopefully. And she nodded slightly, grateful his spell was broken, before he took her face in his hands and kissed her properly, his tongue probing her mouth and softly stroking her lips. He pulled back, his hands remaining on her face as he was unable to let go completely, and said, “Gideon?” and Belle answered, “Safe,” and he returned to her mouth. The kiss was both soft and urgent and their tears mixed, adding a saltiness to their lips. Neither was sure how much time had passed before they broke away again, slowly and almost unwillingly. Rumple stood first and offered his hand, helping Belle up. Much to her surprise he lifted her, bridal style, and carried her to his room, nuzzling his face in her neck and inhaling her scent, lavender and honey. Gently placing her down, he reached for the bottom of her dress, stroking the smoothness of her thighs before pulling it off, Belle’s arms instinctively stretching. He took off his own shirt too and unbuckled his pants, letting them fall. Glancing up, he saw Belle’s perfection and she looked at him with such pure love that he hated himself for being capable of forgetting her for even a moment. His hands traced the sides of her body and hers stroked his chest.

“You lost weight,” she said sadly, noticing how much leaner he was.

“Aye.”

She had a thought of concern for him, the lonely detective who ate too little and drank too much, but then Rumple bent his head to kiss her again, a hand on the back of her head deepening it, and Belle lost all coherent thoughts. They fell back on the bed, moving until Rumple was lying on his side over her, his hands stroking everywhere all at once. He tucked her hair behind her ear, moving his palm over his cheek. _“I was broken without you_ ,” he breathed and his hand traveled slowly down her body, moving along her stomach with a light pressure, his lips never leaving her skin. He kissed down her neck, sucking on her pulse point, and kissed back up until he was at the corner of her mouth. Belle’s body shook with need and she whispered, “ _Please. Please, Rumple.”_ His hand continued to slowly caress her, until he played with the hem of her panties, her legs quivering. “ _Please_ ,” Belle murmured again desperately. _“I need you.”_ He removed her panties slowly, kissing down her neck to her breasts. Belle moaned as he gently massaged each one, finally removing her bra, and taking them in his mouth. Her sounds became frenzied, she was panting and groaning, her whole body shaking in anticipation. Removing his own boxer briefs, he leaned into her more, allowing himself to rub against the bed, relieving some of the pressure. He was so hard he thought he would explode, and as he kissed down her body, she pushed herself up on her arms. “ _Rumple_ ,” she said, her voice barely audible _. “I need you inside of me.”_ He simply nodded and returned to her lips, exploring her mouth with his tongue. Rumple rolled on top of her, covering her body with his, stroking her arms and pinning them above her. He lined himself up and leaned his forehead against hers. Looking into those cerulean eyes, he slid home, filling her slowly, until he was buried to the hilt within. A sound escaped him, words in a language he long thought forgotten. Remaining still, he reveled within her as she enveloped him, all softness and heat, so tight and dripping wet he thought he would burst right there. Realizing she had quieted, Rumple whispered _“Breathe, sweetheart,”_ and Belle shook her head just barely. He began to move, ever so slowly, eliciting frantic moans from Belle who was already tightening around him. Feeling her close, he dipped his head down, licking along her ear, his hand trailing down her arms, her breasts, her hips, until he palmed her thigh, his thumb softly rubbing her clit. She screamed then, a white light bursting in her head, and she grabbed his shoulders pulling him even closer. Her head was in his neck and she bit down a scream and Rumple began to move faster, moving his hand so that he could hold himself up better. He kissed her like a dying man, like she was the air he needed to breathe, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer but then she whispered, _“I love you,”_ and it sent him over the edge. It was ecstasy everywhere, from his fingertips to the backs of his eyes, and he spilled himself into her as she clenched around him, their moans mixing, and they held each other as they came down from their high together. She was most beautiful like this, he thought, a thin layer of sweat illuminating her, her hair spilling over her shoulders, her eyes drowsy with pleasure. As Rumple softened inside of her he stayed there, loathed to separate. They continued to kiss and finally, he begrudgingly slid out, rolling onto his back and pulling her close. Resting her head on his bare chest, Belle realized she had a thousand words on her tongue but didn’t know where to begin. He was stroking the back of head softly with one hand, the other holding hers, absentmindedly drawing patterns on her thumb. Moving his head closer, he kissed her forehead and leaned down toward her.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she whispered.

“No,” he replied. “It wasn’t.”

They were silent again and Belle snuggled up as if she could melt into him. Pulling her closer he said, “I never stopped loving you. All this time, Belle, I almost went mad.”

Belle leaned up a bit and kissed him. “Rumple…” she began, her trembling voice revealing her anxiety, “we need to talk.”

He was a bit alarmed at that. It was rare to see Belle so agitated.

“I don’t know how to say this,” Belle said, biting her lip.

Placing his hand on her chin, he stroked her lip with his thumb. “You can tell me anything, sweetheart.”

Belle took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and began to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rumple finds out he has a daughter.
> 
> Henry is still asleep, the gang will meet to decide how to proceed...


	8. Asleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few months before Rumple wakes up, Alice does.
> 
> But unlike Regina and Rumple, Alice wakes up in her sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I should apologize. I've been calling "Alice," Alice, since the beginning, when I should have been calling her Tilly. I kept it Alice for my own personal reasons (honestly, it's just annoying to keep track of all the personalities) but I do apologize if that bothered anyone. 
> 
> Secondly, this is to answer the question, "How does Alice know Belle and Gideon's names?" and any other information she may have known. 
> 
> Finally - thank you again to those who have left "kudos" and comments. It really means a lot to me! Honestly, more than I could ever describe here so, thank you again.

Gideon Morpheus Gold was a little boy with a big secret. It had only happened once, to his recollection, though even his juvenile mind recognized it could have happened more, especially since there were times when he awoke in the middle of the night with the faintest memory of the blonde haired girl.

It was a few months ago, that first time that was still ever so vivid. He had fallen asleep to the soothing sound of his mother, her lullaby coaxing him to sleep. But then he was awake again, he thought, but not in the comfort of his room, the blue walls, the Superman poster above his bed. He was in a large room, a wooden floor, tall windows, and there was something almost magical about it. Gideon didn’t know how he would have described it. Maybe, he thought, sparkly? With snowflakes that weren’t snowflakes at all, like little lights. “Hello?” he called out and noticed there was an echo to his voice. With no response, Gideon began to feel afraid and looked around hoping for his mother.

“Who’s there?” an unfamiliar voice answered.

Gideon turned around and faced a girl with big blonde hair and many layers of mismatched clothes. She was a grown up, he noticed, but not like his mother. Like Miss Ashley, he thought.

“Where am I?” Gideon asked, the quiver in his voice revealing his rising fear. _Be brave_ , he reminded himself. _Bravery will follow._

“Heck if I know,” she answered. “The _one_ night I forget my pills," she said rolling her eyes.

“It’s like a dream,” Gideon answered. “Like magic.”

Gideon knew magic existed. It was limited in Storybrooke, but he knew Miss Emma had it and he knew his father had it too, where ever he was. Maybe if he was in a place with magic, his papa was there too.

“Do you know my father?” Gideon asked as the girl tried to catch the flakes of light that drifted about.

She shrugged. “Who’s your father?”

Gideon contemplated telling her. He really wasn’t supposed to talk to strangers after all. But looking around, he saw no other choice.

“Rumpelstiltskin. But sometimes people call him Mr. Gold.”

“Don’t know anyone by that name,” she answered walking over to the windows and peering out. She stopped and turned around, her eyes squinting. “Rumpelstiltskin…” she said. “In another world, I knew… I knew him, I think.” Her face was all twisted as if she was trying to remember something. “He… I think he helped me, maybe, long ago. There was a Queen, and cards, and I made deal. I called his name and he rescued me. It became a dream, like this one, and I was back with my sister.”

Gideon was confused at her tale but equally excited at the prospect of seeing his father. “Do you know where he is now? My papa. I haven’t seen him in a long time.”

Alice’s hands were against the windows and her nose was pressed against the glass. “What’s your name?” she asked.

Gideon bit his lip the way his mom did when she was nervous. “I’m not supposed to tell strangers.”

Alice put her hands out and spun around. “We’re alone here, or didn’t you notice? It’s a good thing for me to know your name.”

Gideon considered their predicament. “Gideon. Gideon Gold.”

“I’m Alice,” she answered. “Who’s your mum?”

“Her name is Belle. She misses my papa too.”

Alice thought of the manic, green scaled man who saved her from Wonderland. She called him because she was desperate, as all who called him were, and wondered how on earth he ever married.

“How’d they meet?”

Gideon knew this answer as his mother had told it many times, their wedding picture being one in the album they looked through each night. “She worked for him. My mother said that he said he needed someone to clean his ‘rather large estate’ but really he was lonely and they fell in love.”

“Uh huh…” she said.

The room was beginning to dissolve and Gideon could feel himself disappearing.

“Do you know where he is? My papa? Can you… can you send him home?”

But it was all gone and Gideon woke up panting heavily in his bed. He tore off the covers and scrambled out of bed with his mother’s room in mind but stopped. He knew that dream was real the same as he knew that he was truly awake then. But Gideon also knew that his mother said that magic always came with a price. That thought frightened him and his instinct to protect his mother kicked in. She needn’t know, he thought. She needn’t know that he had somehow crossed a realm and spoke with a girl who might know his papa. He knew that his mother often cried at night, when she thought Gideon was asleep. It was time for Gideon to be a superhero, he thought bravely, and keep this secret. Gideon didn’t learn anything helpful, anyway, and so he turned around and returned to his bed. Squeezing an old stuffed animal, he fell asleep after a long while, and didn’t dream of the blonde haired girl again. At least, not that he could remember.

 

When Alice awoke face down on the floor of her hovel home, she pushed herself up on her arms.

“ _Weaver_ ,” she whispered and then rubbed her eyes. She was awake... and not just from her night’s sleep. Really and truly, Alice was awake. She stood up, walked over to her pills, and promptly spilled them into the garbage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rumple learns he has a daughter and reacts as one would expect, I suppose.


	9. Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumple learns he has a daughter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the "kudos" and comments - I love and appreciate them!
> 
> ((Prompts are welcome))
> 
> Oh, and Happy New Year!

Belle couldn’t concentrate with his thumb on her lip. She stroked his arm and stood, putting on his crumped blue button down and taking out her phone. He sat up on the bed, only a thin sheet covering him.

“Rumple…” she began. But how was she to tell him? Seeing a picture of Gideon would be shock enough – he was no longer the spunky toddler who liked fire trucks but feared the siren. His soft curls didn’t fall everywhere, getting in the way of his eyes, and he didn’t need help getting dressed each morning. Gideon was a big boy, though he would be loathed to hear his mother call him that (even the term “big boy” sounded too babyish for him). He was already reading on his own, to no surprise to anyone, and preferred superheroes to trucks. He played soccer, albeit not well, and took yoga with his mother. On Sundays he took an art class where he blushed whenever Miss Ashley’s daughter, Alexandra, attended. It would be crushing for Rumple who was, to the shock of many townspeople, an unconditionally loving and devoted father. He had missed so much, and she knew the pain would cut deep. That would bad enough, Belle thought, but what about the daughter he didn’t even know he had? How was Belle supposed to even begin?

“I don’t have words,” she said sadly.

Rumple’s lips curved into a half smile. “That’s new,” he said. “You always know what to say.”

Her head dropped. “Sometimes there’s just… there’s just no words.”

Rumple leaned forward anxiously and placed his finger under Belle’s chin lifting her face and meeting her eyes. He was pleading with her silently and tears slowly fell from her that Rumple brushed aside with his other hand. His mind went to those awful locked away places it hadn’t been in so long. Maybe Belle had found someone else in the time he was gone. Maybe she no longer loved him as she did before. His stomach contracted at the thought, his chest heaved with a heaviness. Belle slowly picked up the phone and swiped it revealing her home screen. She handed it over.

It was a picture of a smiling boy in front of a school bus. He wore a navy hooded sweatshirt and jeans. His hair was cropped short under a baseball cap and his smile was so big that his eyes were squinting. Rumple smiled. _Oh, Gid,_ he thought. _Look what I missed._ His eyes stayed on Gideon for a moment, a mixture of sadness at the lost time and joy of seeing his boy blended together to form a feeling that Rumple couldn’t quite identify. He let his eyes roam, then, to Gideon’s hand which was holding onto a little girl. Her pig tails were curly and her feet turned inward, pink striped pajamas made her seem smaller, somehow. Rumple realized what Belle was trying to show him, where words had failed her.

“Belle…” he began, his voice a whisper, “Is this…”

“Yes.”

He simply nodded at that and returned his gaze to the picture.

“Name?” he asked, almost a sob.

“Bayla Rose. It means ‘beauty’.”

“Like you.”

She nodded and took his free hand. “We call her ‘Bay’.”

At that he put the phone down and looked at Belle.

“Bae?”

“I thought… I thought you would have liked that.”

He cupped her face with both hands because he had no words for her either. He kissed her slowly, tasting her lips and every part of her mouth, pouring everything he had into her, all the things he wanted to say but didn’t know how. He kissed her until she sighed and he pulled her close, stroking her hair until he felt her breathing even out and her body relax. Once asleep, Rumple gently removed himself from her hold and dressed, kissing her cheek and heading out the door.

He drove too fast, probably dangerously so, but arrived at Alice’s storage container home in under five minutes. She was sitting on top, swinging her legs and singing.

“ _Are you sleeping, are you sleeping, Mr. Gold? Mr. Gold?”_

He reached his hands up to her and she giggled, grabbing onto him as he helped her down.

“I would have sang Rumpelstiltskin, but I’m afraid that don’t fit with the song you know.”

Rumple said nothing and Alice flicked his nose and smirked. “Doth my eyes deceive me, or do I sense a believer?”

There was a breeze, a chilly one, and Rumple took off his coat and covered Alice.

“How do you know my son?”

Walking into her container, she plopped herself onto her mattress.

“Gid’s a good friend of mine.”

Rumple crossed his arms.

“I stopped taking my pills, you see. At first, it was an accident. Clear forgot ‘em. That night, I wake up only I don’t because I’m still asleep. You understand?” Rumple nodded ambiguously, his face revealing nothing, though Alice could feel his waves of anger as if it were tangible. She wasn’t afraid, she knew it wasn’t directed at her, but it pushed her to continue. “I was in this room, like a ballroom. There were these falling lights and big windows. And there was this kid, this boy, he was there too. He was asking me about his father and we spoke and he told me his name was Gideon and Rumpelstiltskin was his pa. I felt bad for the kid, you know? Seemed a bit lost. I’ve been lost before too. And I remembered, then, in the dream. Getting lost in Wonderland, meeting you. After that, I stopped taking my pills, and I kept on seeing Gideon. But I felt for the kid, he was scared, you know? So I would tell him stories and he would fall asleep, well, he was asleep, but he’d fall asleep in that dream-world and the next time we’d meet he wouldn’t remember the last, you see? It was better for him, I think…”

Alice stood and went to a crate in the corner of the room. The place was a mess yet she seemed to know exactly where the thing she was looking for was and a moment later she slid it out and handed Rumple Henry’s missing book.

“Gideon said he thought this was important.”

Rumple took it and grabbed Alice with his other arm pulling her into a hug.

“Thank you,” he said simply. "For looking out for him when I couldn't."

Alice stepped back unsure of herself and swatted him playfully. “I knew you liked me, Detective,” she said with a laugh. As he put the book under his arm he turned on his heel to leave. “Don’t do it,” Alice said. “Whatever you’re thinking. It ain’t worth it.”

He didn’t stop or take in what she had to say. The person who did this, who took him from his family, to Rumple… they were already dead.

 

Belle awoke in a cold bed with no sign of her husband. She stood and dressed quickly, relieved when she heard a knock at the door. _He must have run out and forgot his keys,_ she thought. Opening the door, Belle expected to see Rumple holding a bag of groceries, maybe a bottle of wine. Instead she saw nothing but the blunt handle of a handgun and then... black. She dropped quickly, her body falling to the ground with a dull thud.

“Hmpf,” Ivy said and motioned with her head for the large man in front of her to lift Belle. “Easy enough.”

Belle’s body hung over the man as they exited the apartment into the parking lot in the back. There was a trail of blood that Ivy considered cleaning before dismissing the thought. Throwing Belle into the trunk, they rode off, Ivy smiling behind the wheel.


	10. Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the past, Alice meets Rumpelstiltskin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I based Alice's character on the actual "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland" ... may as well give my 8th grade English teacher a shoutout.
> 
> Thank you again for all the kudos and comments! It means a lot to me!

Alice was _bored_. She watched the water flow in the river bank as her sister read to her a book that did not hold her interest.  “There’s no _pictures!”_ Alice whined. Her sister rolled her eyes and continued reading, not bothering to even lift her head up when she heard the grass beneath Alice shift. There was a rabbit, yes, a rabbit, Alice had definitely seen it. White and wearing a little vest and checking the time nervously. Was it possible he had mumbled to himself? Alice looked over to her sister who was too engrossed in the dull story to notice anything. Impulsively, Alice followed the rabbit into a hole and found herself falling. _Am I dreaming?_ She thought. It wasn’t so much falling as floating which gave Alice enough time to pluck a marmalade jar from one of the shelves that lined the seemingly endless hole. Hoping to try some, Alice was disappointed to find it empty. “I wish my cat was here,” she said aloud to no one. It must have been a long time and Alice landed with a bang, and though she should have expected to land eventually, the landing came as a bit of a surprise. Brushing herself off, she was pleased to find herself unhurt, and caught sign of the white rabbit as he raced around a corner.

There was growing and shrinking, tears and floods, mice and rabbits, and even a mad tea party. In the end, there was a King and Queen and a trial and Alice was thrown in a door-less cell to await her execution. She was brave through it all, brave and impetuous as always, and as she turned in circles she saw no way out. A thought came, then, an idea that made itself known when a light bulb appeared above her head and disappeared as soon as it came.

“Rumpelstiltskin!” she screamed. “Rumpelstiltskin, Rumpelstiltskin, RUMPELSTILTSKIN!”

 

* * *

 

 

Prophecies are a funny thing. They can be self-fulling or misinterpreted or too unclear to even ponder. They came to Rumpelstiltskin randomly, like unwelcome flashes, and then vanished just as quickly. He had had one that stuck with him earlier that week. A girl, a blonde mess, in the realm of dreams. She was talking, but he couldn’t see to whom, but prophecies can make things known without showing them. Rumpel knew she was comforting his son, though he couldn’t see him or hear exactly what she was saying. He shook his head, his curls shaking. _Bae_ , he thought. Somewhere, at some time, this girl would comfort his boy.

It was a few days later, while making a complicated memory potion, that Rumpel heard a call. People called him day and night, from here and there, and he answered when he thought it was worth it. This voice screamed from a land unknown, a land he had not yet seen, a land at the end of worlds, just within his grasp as the Dark One. He disappeared in a cloud of purple smoke and reappeared in Wonderland, standing in front of a circular cell that lacked an exit. Standing with one leg dramatically crossing the other, he bowed excessively, his right hand pressed horizontally across his abdomen, his left held out from the body.

“At your service,” he said, his R's rolled.

“You’re green,” Alice said.

“I suppose you won’t be asking for the gift of sight then, dearie?” Rumple said as he rolled his eyes. He looked up and saw her for the first time, big bow, little dress, and that familiar heap of curls. He _knew_ her. She was the one from the prophecy, albeit much younger than she was in his vision. His face conveyed no hint of his discovery and his voice remained in it’s usual high pitched mocking tone.

“I need to get out of here,” she answered.

“Ah, and what will _I_ get?”

“Anything.”

“I _do_ love when they say anything,” he said with a giggle, his fingers greedily tapping each other near his chin.

“So?” she said, unafraid of the scaled man with madness in his eyes.

“You’ll meet a boy one day,” he said. “In a dream, he will be there. And you will help him.”

“A boy in a _dream_? But dreams aren’t real.”

“Oh, you’ll find that dreams can be more real than reality, dearie.”

Alice made a face at that and held out her hand. “I’ll help your dream-boy,” she said.

“Goodie!” he replied.

The King and Queen walked in at that moment to witness Alice’s upcoming execution and Rumpelstiltskin snapped, turning them into playing cards, and disappeared with Alice. Rumpel watched from his mirror as Alice “woke” beside the river bank, her sister’s monotone voice still reading the same page as before. Removing the fallen leaves from her dress, Alice rubbed her eyes and said to her sister,

“You’ll _never_ believe the dream I just had!”


	11. Unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang all meet up and discover some important information. Rumple learns that Belle has been kidnapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the hiatus - new semester and teaching five classes. Have to get back into a routine :)
> 
> Thank you for the kudos and comments - it means a lot to me!

Rumpel sped away, thinking about the Alice he met so long ago. He didn’t know her then, and thought the worst of people anyway, but he saw now that she would have helped Gideon even if she hadn’t made that deal with him in Wonderland. He almost chuckled thinking of that, of how he assumed it was Baelfire and how it turned out. Driving too fast, Rumple put on the lights without the siren and almost hit a girl as she stepped into the street. Cursing, he honked, and continued speeding on. He parked illegally, in front of Roni’s bar with his front right tire on the curb. He pulled his gun and cleared the bar in under ten minutes, catching Regina rolling her eyes in his periphery. The patrons exited slurring curses at the ill-tempered detective. Once emptied, Rumpel sauntered over to bar and pointed his gun about a foot from Regina’s head.

Putting one hand on her hips, Regina huffed. “You’re not going to shoot me.”

 _“Try me, dearie,”_ he said through clenched teeth.

Emma stormed in then, responding to a text from Regina, and ordered Rumpel to put his gun down. He ignored her completely and continued.

“I procure you a bean so that my grandson can, ‘ _find his story_.’ You return, tight lipped, and a fortnight later I’m in this hellhole. I have a sense, you know, and your magic touched it last. Now, I’ll only ask this once,” he said. “ _Where. Is. The. Dagger?”_ His arm was erect and remained steady and Regina sighed.

“I don’t know.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means she doesn’t know, Gold!” Emma yelled. “We’re all trying to figure this out.”

“There was a curse –“ Regina began.

_“Obviously”_

“I got my hands on it but only for a moment. I changed what I could. Put the dagger in a safe place, adjusted your position in all this. I ran off and…” Regina squinted her eyes trying to pull the foggy remnants of the memories “…I ran off and ran into someone. Told them to expect Belle, I think. Gods, Rumple, I don’t know. You think I want this?! There are blanks, my memory, it goes… black. Now you tell me, how do I get my memories back?”

“Haven’t you noticed, there’s no magic here dearie!” Rumpel said, and his voice hitting that pitch that it did in the Enchanted Forest.

“Magic…” Regina said. “That’s why we’re here. Henry… he can’t be where there’s magic. Even Storybrooke had too much for him.”

Rumple said nothing but closed the gap between the gun and Regina’s head.

“I need the dagger. Now.”

Regina’s phone vibrated then, on the counter to her right. She slowly reached for it and saw a text from an unknown number.

DAGGER. MIDNIGHT. THE FOUNTAIN AT EROS PARK. COME ALONE.

“Looks like you’re not the only one looking for it,” Regina said, holding her phone up to Rumpel. She had meant to show him the text of course, and did not anticipate that he would be the first to see the next message, a photograph of Belle on a gray stone floor. She was unconscious and worse still, there was blood on her shoulders, a mixture of red and browns spotting the button down she was wearing. Her hair was matted and it was clear she was injured fairly severely. Lying on her side, one arm out on the floor, the other across her chest, her skin looked especially pale against the dark floor. Rumpel saw it first, the worst case scenario in a nightmare situation. He said nothing, but took the phone and lowered his gun without realizing. He thought he was angry before, livid at missing his son growing up and the birth of his daughter. But it was nothing, _nothing,_ compared to what was surging through his body, his blood boiling, he was almost strangled with raging anger. His thumb pressed against the screen so hard that it cracked and he threw it to Regina. It was an hour until midnight and Rumpel would be at that damn fountain. And the person who took Belle? They would die. Slowly, painfully, until death would be a mercy and then he would begin the torture again. It was at that moment - the moment Rumpel thought his anger would ignite and burn the city down that he found himself handcuffed to Roni's bar, Emma slipping the key into her back pocket.

 

* * *

 

Violet Morgan never knew her mother. She had run away from her father, an abusive two faced liar whom she barely remembered, three years earlier, when she was fifteen. She found herself under the care of Alice who was only a couple of years her senior. Recently, Alice had asked some of her street rats to keep watch and gave them each a station. Behind a tree here, on a park bench there. Violet was asked to hide behind a supporting column in the underground parking lot at Hecate Co-Ops, an upscale luxury apartment complex. The parking lot was always ominously empty, as if no one lived there, save for one black shiny jeep that came and went. Ivy Belfrey must have been the co-op's only inhabitant and for the last couple of weeks, Violet kept night watch, a mostly boring position of witnessing Ivy coming home from work or a night out. She heard the car coming and hid herself better behind the large white stone column. Violet watched as Ivy and a large men exited in a hurried fashion and Ivy popped the trunk. The man threw a limp body over his shoulder and they walked in, disappearing from her sight. Once the coast was clear, Violet ran off to find Alice. She was nearly hit by a car, a silent red siren flashing, and jumped back onto the curb as it went speeding by.  _Freaking coppers,_ she whispered under her breath.  She ran more cautiously after that until she made it to the docks and found Alice skipping along side them.

"We'll be going home soon, ya know?" Alice said, chewing gum loudly.

Violet shrugged. "I don't have a home."

"Sure ya do!" She said popping a bubble. Alice balled her hands and put them to her heart. "And a true love at that."

Violet rolled her eyes. Now that Alice was off her meds she had been weirder than usual. Spouting fantastical nonsense, like Violet was some princess in Camelot. If she had anywhere else to go, Violet would have, but she still felt a certain loyalty and gratitude to Alice, who helped show her how to stay full and warm when she ran away some years ago. 

"I saw something," Violet said trying to get Alice's attention. "You know, at the Hecate parking lot."

"I hope it wasn't Hecate herself," Alice said with a laugh. "There's somebody you best not meet alone."

"Alice!" Violet said stomping her foot. She turned on her heel and opened her eyes wide. "I saw Ivy and a large stranger get out of her car. They had this woman in the trunk. She could have been dead, I don't know, but they brought her into the building."

Alice closed her eyes. "Did you get a good luck at the woman by any chance?"

Violet shook her head. "Never saw the unknown woman in my life. She had on a man's shirt. And a lot of dark hair."

"Oh, she's already dead, do you think she knows yet?"

"The woman?" Violet asked

"No," Alice answered. "Ivy. And death can't come soon enough for her, you hear? He's going to make her suffer."

"Who is?" Violet asked, but Alice had already taken off, running along side the harbor. 

"Why, Rumpelstiltskin, o' course." Alice yelled as she raced toward Roni's bar. 

 

* * *

 

"We need to work together," Emma said. Rumple stared blankly, a perfect poker face, no sign of his rage or his initial shock of being handcuffed present. Emma eyed Regina whose expression seemed to state her agreement to keep Rumple locked up for the time being and so the key stayed safely in Emma's back pocket. Hook - the actual Hook - came through the front door at that moment, yelling for the others to follow, until they stood right outside of a police car. 

"Is that... is that Henry's book?" Emma said peering into Rumple's car. Hook affirmed it was and slammed the metal of his hooked hand against the window, shattering glass everywhere. They walked back in together, placing the book on the bar top.

" _I hope you know that you will live to regret  this moment,"_ Rumple said to all of them.

"Maybe. But we couldn't let you loose breathing fire," Emma replied as she opened the book. She skipped to the end, where their stories were once completed, to find new chapters added. 

"Look at this," she said, motioning to everyone. "I thought this book was complete."

They all peered in, except for Rumple, at the newest chapter. They skimmed quickly until they saw a picture of Regina, in all her Enchanted Forest glory, attempting to edit a spell behind Drizella's (well, Ivy's) back. After a few moments, Emma walked over to Rumpelstiltskin. 

"I'm going to uncuff you," she said. "I need you to work with us."

Rumple merely smirked, his skin a shade of red, a vein in his neck throbbing.

"Maybe not," Emma said. "Not until you agree to behave."

"Care to share your discoveries, dearie?"

"Drizella seems to be behind it. She needed blood from Regina to complete the curse. Regina made quick adjustments behind her back, but had little time. Your dagger is hidden here, but Ivy put in that Regina should have some memory lapses. She wants you, Rumple, and she knew you were here in this land. She hopes to make herself the Dark One, to have the ultimate magic."

Regina was still flipping through pages.

"Henry was poisoned. He has to be in this world or the poison will take effect. That's how they got me to give them blood. He can't be woken unless it's True Love's kiss, which will end his spell and the poison."

With his free hand, Rumple waved to his cuffed one, motioning for Emma to unlock it.

"We need your help," Emma repeated. "It's almost midnight. We need to work together."

At that, Rumple said nothing. Regina walked over, putting her hands on Rumple's shoulders. "Belle's best chance is if we're a team. I know you know that."

Emma checked her watch nervously. "We need a plan," she said.

"Oi, well, plans are useless, don't you know? It's the _planning_  that's indispensable." Alice said, sprinting over from the back door toward Rumple with a wink. She popped a bubble with her teeth and took out a bobby pin from her hair. Emma stopped her and Alice said,

"That's Eisenhower."

"What is?"

"What I said. Weren't you listening? 'Plans are useless, but planning is indispensable'."

Emma stopped Alice with her other hand. "Are you going to work with us, Gold?"

"She's right, ya know. You need 'em." Alice said and jerked her head to everyone. 

Rumple nodded his head slightly, and Emma removed her hand, allowing Alice to pick the lock. It was open before Emma could even retrieve the key. Rumple's initial reaction was to grab Emma by the throat and throw her against the wall but he refrained - showing unbelievable impulse control. Alice jumped up on the bar and looked right at Rumpelstiltskin.

"Your Belle. Ivy had this big guy carrying her into her apartment. She lives over at Hecate's."

Rumple remained silent, turning on his heel to walk out and head for Hecate's. 

"You said you would help us," Regina said, one hand on her hip, to Rumple's back as he walked away.

"Nuh uh," Alice said shaking her head and blowing another bubble. "He never said anything like it." She hopped off the counter and cut him off as he reached the door, blocking his exit.

"'Two people with a common goal can accomplish many things. Two people with a common enemy can accomplish even more.'"

"Quoting me will get you no where, dearie," he said dryly. "I don't work with a... _team_." The last word was said through clenched teeth, his eyes narrowed. 

Alice bobbed her head and stood straighter when Rumple attempted to move past her. 

"But it's not about  _you,_ is it? It's her best chance, it is." Alice said and was pleased when Rumple's deadpan expression revealed the slightest hint of defeat. Alice continued, her voice merely a whisper, all hints of her merry tone gone, "It's a bad thing, the author to be cursed like this. Our fates are..." and she looked up at him not knowing how to answer the sentence.  "Unknown," she finally said. Rumple took a deep breath and turned around. 

"If Belle dies, you all die," he said in his familiar mocking tone. Clasping his hands together, he began, "This is what we'll do."


	12. Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before the curse, Henry wants to leave Storybrook for the Enchanted Forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it takes so long to update - my classes are killing me this semester. I appreciate those who have stuck with it! Thank you for the kudos and comments!

Teenagers are a funny sort, no? They want so badly to be older but certain parts of their minds haven't quite caught up with the rest yet. Henry was at the uncomfortable age where, as a junior in Storybrooke High, he felt anxious to get away, to find himself, but didn't have the resources to do so. A constant ball of nervous energy, Emma and Regina worried about the edgy mess Henry had become. Belle had recommended books with titles such as, "Parenting the Teenage Boy" and "Shaping the Man," which made Emma roll her eyes. Regina tried to get through the "Manuel to Manhood" but in the end, it seemed that there was no real solution. Finally, at a tense dinner with just Regina and Henry, Henry pushed away the soup and leaned back.

"I can't be here, anymore," he said.

Regina looked around. "In the dining room?" she answered.

"No, just here. Everyone has their story. Everyone got their happy ending... their happy ' _beginning_ ,'" he said the last word rolling his eyes. "And I don't want you to think I'm not happy for our friends. I am! But I feel sort of lost, Mom. I feel like everyone has a story and I was just sort of there but it was never really about me, you know?"

"I think I do."

"I want a story, too. A real story. I want to go to the Enchanted Forest."

"Hmm," Regina said because it was the only thing she could think of. "What about your life here? What about Violet?"

"Violet can come with me," he said.

Regina scoffed. "Violet is only a sophomore and sending two teenagers gallivanting throughout my old world is not what I have in mind for you, nor do I think Violet's aunt would much appreciate her leaving before she graduated."

Henry leaned forward, his arms crossed on the table. "Does that mean you would let _me_ go?"

Regina rose from her chair and collected her bowl of soup along with Henry's. "Not alone," she said as she headed to the kitchen. "I would go with you, of course."

She heard Henry rise and walk toward her as she loaded the dishwasher. "But I can go?"

"I'll have to talk to Emma," she said. "But yes, I would let you go... with me, Henry. I can't send you off alone yet. I'll help you find your story"

Henry merely nodded, surprised that the conversation was going mostly his way. He had expected a fight and was all pumped up for it. But now that she was acquiescing he found himself tongue tied. He gave her a quick hug and nodded to himself, leaving to go to his room, presumably to call Violet. Regina leaned back against the sink with her arms crossed. How the hell would she get to the Enchanted Forest? And, worse so, how would she convince Emma to be okay with her taking Henry there?

 

* * *

 

 

Belle loved her son more than she loved herself, but if he climbed out of his crib one... more... time... she was going to snap. They had been playing this game for roughly two hours. Belle would take Gideon by the hand and lead him to his room. Gently lifting him, she tucked him into his crib, a stuffed lion at his side, and kissed his forehead. The first time, and admittingly, the second and third, Belle sang a soft lullaby that ended with Gideon’s eyes drooping. A second (and third and fourth and fifth) wind seemed to hit him about ten minutes later when she would hear a _thump_ and then the pitter patter of feet. He would appear before her, thumb in mouth, a wide smile. Back to the crib, the song, and the process would repeat. For all of Belle’s belief in “tough love” it was harder in practice and, exasperated, she watched the clock awaiting her husband’s return. Mondays were always the longest, as he tried to do a week’s worth of work in a night, allowing him to come home earlier the following days. The antique Bavarian clock struck nine as Belle made her way toward the stairs, hand in hand with her son. When she heard the keys in the door and Rumple walk in, Belle let out a breath of relief she had not realized she was holding. She looked at Gideon knowingly, as if to say, “You’re in for it now.” Rumple looked at Belle, and then disappointingly at his son. For a limping man of not much height, he was surprisingly intimidating. Walking over to Belle, he kissed her lips and her forehead. He looked down at Gideon and shook his head, silently lifting him and carrying him up the stairs, a bit of a struggle, but he managed. Belle made her way to the kitchen where she had been attempting to make dinner since putting Gid in. There had been a lavish plan, but in the end, a simple stir fry would have to do and she began to chop garlic and onion to start. Fifteen minutes later, the skillet was sizzling with vegetables and sliced chicken and teriyaki sauce, and Rumple walked in.

“Asleep,” Belle asked though she knew the answer.

He nodded as he took off his suit jacket and loosened his tie, he kept the waistcoat on over the deep burgundy shirt. He walked over to Belle, who had turned to mix the food over the stove, hanging his cane on the back of a chair. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her back flush against him. He kissed her neck, up to her ear and whispered, “You’re a great mother. I couldn’t imagine a better one.” She turned to face him, wooden spoon in one hand, and linked her arms around his neck.

“Then why can’t I get him to sleep like you can?”

He kissed her then, slowly, just lips, a light tease. “And why can’t I get him to eat like you can?” Kissing her again, he stopped after every word. “We. Work. Together. As. A. Team.” After the last word he deepened the kiss, one hand massaging the back of her head. Belle fiddled her hand behind her until she found the knob to turn off the flame on the stove and then began unbuttoning his waistcoat. Rumple’s hand meanwhile made its way up her leg as he realized she was wearing stockings, something that he hated immensely as it made getting to her more difficult. Frustrated, he became more aggressive with the kiss, moving her a few steps to the side and lifting her on the counter. He massaged her thigh with one hand, the other cupping her breast, and she slid his waistcoat to the floor and untucked his shirt. She was breathing heavily then, waiting for his hand to give her some relief, and finally, finally, his thumb started stroking her, she unbuttoned the first button and that’s when the knocking started. It wasn’t urgent, exactly, but wasn’t soft either.

“The door,” Belle managed to get out.

 _“Sod the door_ ,” he growled, biting her bottom lip and pressing firmly with his thumb on her sex. She moaned loudly and the knocking became more urgent.

Belle put her hand over his and began to slide down off the counter.

“I will kill whomever it is,” Rumple said to her as she lead the way to see who it was. Rumple managed to tuck his shirt in and was just buttoning the top button when Belle opened the door to reveal Regina.

“What an unprecedented delight,” he said dryly.

“Behave,” Belle mouthed to him. “Regina, come in, come in. Is everything okay?”

“Yes, well, yes,” she said hanging up her coat.

Belle led her to the couch and Rumple rolled his eyes as he limped over to a chair in the living room.

“It’s Henry,” Regina admitted. “He’s been restless lately. You how young men can be,” she said to Rumple, who remained expressionless. “He wants to find his story, find _himself_ I guess. I told him I’d help him. It’s better than him running off.”

“On that we can agree,” Rumple answered.

Feeling hopeful, Regina asked, “In that case, will you help us?”

“Be clear, _your majesty_ , as I do not have the patience or desire to read between your lines. What is it that you want?”

Belle flashed him a warning look as Regina said, “A bean. I need a magic bean.”

“Ah,” Rumple said standing.

“Do you have one?”

“Of course.”

“Can I have it?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I think we’re done here, dearie. I would thank you for stopping by, but I’m not particularly thankful for your uninvited visit. Now please,” he said walking toward the door, “Allow me to show you out.”

Belle turned to Regina and whispered, “I’ll talk to him.”

“I’m lame, not deaf,” Rumple said from the door, Regina’s coat in hand. Regina huffed and grabbed her coat, briskly walking out as Rumple waved and closed the door.

“Now, my sweet, where were we?”

Belle’s hands were on her hips. He exhaled frustratingly, knowing he was in for a conversation he did not wish to have. Forty five minutes later, Rumple had acquiesced and promised Belle to give Regina the bean, an ominous feeling in the pit of his stomach that he ignored, happy to be in the good graces of his wife again. They finished what they started and both fell into oblivion content and sated, Rumple spooning Belle's naked body from behind, his forehead against the back of her neck. 

Time works differently in the Enchanted Forest, and when Regina and Henry returned from whatever mayhem they caused over there, they were both a bit older and somehow changed. Regina was subdued, she seemed almost defeated. Henry was lethargic if not sickly and Rumple sat back and awaited the consequences of the bean he never wanted help them with in the first place.


	13. Fog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to the present... of the story, anyway.
> 
> Alice realizes something the others don't. 
> 
> Sorry it's so short - both kids home today!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos and comments - they make my day and mean a lot to me!
> 
> Also, prompts are welcome.

They were blind, the lot of them. It was right there in front of them and even wide awake they couldn’t see. It was a shame, really. But not Alice, _not I_ , she thought. She had flipped through the book a little, her nose so close to the pages it brushed against the fine clear print that gave her the information everyone so badly wanted. It wasn’t their fault, really, they were too distracted by a fog of whatever it is was that was plaguing them. Rumpelstiltskin, for all his stoic bravado, was dying inside thinking that Belle might be in mortal danger. Regina felt guilty and lost and her memory wasn’t quite full yet and Emma was always the last to see. But it was right there, on the thirty third page of the second to last chapter. Henry writhing on the floor, Regina spell in hand and moments to adjust it before slicing her own hand to give Druzilla the necessary blood. But she didn’t see Regina’s quick manner, and among other things, she had added quickly,

_The Dark One’s dagger shall be -_

_Away from its counterpart_

_But shall stay where it’s always been_

_Tied to his heart._

Maybe Regina would remember as she marched off like a sheep to slaughter, waiting by the fountain, magic-free and drowning in shame for all the events resulting from her misadventures with Henry. It wouldn’t matter, because by then, Alice would hopefully have succeeded.

She made her way to the southern part of town and made a left on Parish Lane, a mostly abandoned street with bordered up stores and decrepit buildings. It was there at the end, a white Church with a small yard and crumbling tombstones. Alice had spent time here when she thought she was nothing but a runaway youth. No one ever came here, and it had given her solace to be among the silence of the dead. Towards the back, passed an overgrown bush and a trail of weeds, was a large tombstone, empty on one side, engraved on the other.  “WEAVER” was scrawled along the top and on the left side:

Belle

Beloved wife and mother

Loved as long as time

She smirked at that and began digging with her hands, the soil hard and cold, but Alice determined as ever. It was a slow process and at some point Alice stood and looked around until she found what she was looking for, a rusted shovel strewn about, as if this was a real abandoned cemetery. There were no church bells or clock towers to signal the time, but it was at least a half an hour later when the shovel hit something with a _BANG._ It made Alice’s adrenaline pump and when a full wooden coffin was revealed, any fear that the girl may have had at the possibility of there being a body in there disappeared and was covered by sheer excitement, her stomach doing back flips. She pried it open with little difficulty to find it mostly empty, a sackcloth and an aura of dark magic. Instinctively, Alice looked around like a hunted rabbit, the fog blocking much of her view, before bending down and picking up the sackcloth. Removing the top portion, she smiled like a Cheshire cat at her prize: Rumpelstiltskin’s dagger.


	14. Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry makes his way to the docks after being kicked out of Roni's by Weaver.
> 
> Belle finds a way to tell everyone where she is.
> 
> Thank you for the comments and kudos! It means a lot to me :)

Henry was not exactly drunk but he wasn’t exactly sober either. He was happily on his way to becoming quite sloshed but was unexpectedly thrown out of Roni’s along with everyone else by the irate detective that Henry knew, who he had thought was more of the mellow type. The thought to call Jacinda came but Henry concluded he wasn’t much in the mood and before he knew it he found himself near the water kicking stray rocks and thinking about nothing in particular. The creepy sense that he was being watched spread through him so he carefully turned around, almost tripping on his own feet.

“Whoa there,” she said. “Are you okay?”

Henry straightened up and cleared his throat. “Yeah, yes, just um…” and he looked up and met her eyes, deep brown and warm. There was something there, wasn’t there? “I’m sorry, but have we met?”

“No,” she said shrugging and took a step closer. “I don’t… I don’t think so,” but she sounded just as confused as he, as if they were each a memory from a different life.

“Henry,” he said. “Henry Mills.”

“Violet,” she answered and stood next to him, her hands in her pockets.

He smiled and Violet noticed that he somehow shrank to a little boy when he smiled like that. “There’s a character in my book named Violet,” he said.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah”

“What happens to her?”

Henry shrugged. “Nothing much. I guess she ends up in high school at the end of it.”

“Oh,” she said. “I would have liked to go to high school I think. I suppose it’s good that one Violet got to go.”

“You didn’t go to high school?”

She shook her head.

“Well, I hope it’s a comfort to know that you’ll never need to know the hypotenuse of a triangle or the history of Greece to become a successful adult.”

_“It is during our most darkest moments that we must focus to see the light.”_

“What?” Henry asked.

“Aristotle,” she said with a shrug.

“You can quote _Aristotle_?”

Violet stared at him. She didn’t even know where it came from, this knowledge of ancient philosophy. “Yes,” she replied simply. “I guess I can. But you’re right. It hasn’t helped me become successful.”

“I’m kind of impressed though,” Henry answered. “You succeeded at that, at least.”

“At least.”

It was strange, standing there, staring at the black water, the only light from a dying street lamp a few feet away. A mess of blonde curls went running past them disturbing the quiet and Henry took Violet’s hand without thinking, linking his fingers through hers, and squeezing  gently. It grew colder as the hours passed, the time approaching midnight, but neither Henry nor Violet moved, both feeling a certain in-explainable calmness being so close to the other.

 

* * *

 

 

Belle's head was throbbing and being carried in a way in which her head was hanging upside down didn't help. Her eyes were half shut but she showed no hint that she was semi-conscious. She inwardly groaned, her eyes open just enough to see a blurred view of the ground. Concrete. Linoleum. Elevator. Carpet. Hardwood. She tried to get a better view once she heard a door shut and could make out she was in a home of some kind, apartment most likely since there had been an elevator. She could see the bottom of a beige couch, a rug that was some shade of blue. There was the push of a button and an electric sound of something shifting and Belle forced her eyes to the side as much as she could, seeing a glimpse of a book shelf sliding over. Unceremoniously dumped on the floor, the last thing she heard was the flash of a phone camera, as she slipped back into oblivion.  

Floating flickers of lights, an echo of sound, Belle knew this place.  _I'm in the realm of dreams,_ she thought. Recognizing the Dark Castle's ballroom, Belle walked over to the window to look out. There was only one person she knew who once had the power to meet here. Well, he _had_ the power, she assumed he no longer held it. But then she heard him and she knew that her six years of denial accomplished nothing, and her young son still retained the capability of wandering in this strange world.

"Mom?"

Belle smiled and turned around rushing over to her son, bending down and scooping him up into her arms. 

"You're hurt," he said as she set him down.

"Only a little," Belle said but saw how Gideon frowned at her lie. "It's worse than it looks,” she said with a smile. “Mommy’s okay.”

"How are you here?"

Belle didn't know how to answer that. How was she there, how was Gideon here? This was a conversation to have with her husband. Belle’s head began to throb and she knew pain in a dream was a bad sign. Gideon was speaking again but he was also becoming blurry and Belle was hit with a surge of nausea. 

"Gideon," Belle said, struggling to keep her voice strong and not scare her young son. "My brave boy. I think my body is leaving this realm. You must tell Mrs. Snow, tell her I'm in an apartment, behind a book shelf. Okay? There's a button and it moves."

Gideon's lips were moving but Belle could not hear him. It was garbled and the world left her until there was only darkness.

Gideon awoke with a start, immediately jumping out of bed. Running toward the door of the master bedroom, Gideon knocked hurriedly, bouncing up and down. David answered the door, sleep lines on the side of his face, his hair sticking up in the back.

"Nightmare, Gid?" he said.

"My mother," Gideon said quickly. "She's behind a moving book case. And there's a button! She's hurt very badly. She said she wasn't but I saw the blood and please, you have to tell them!"

David took a deep breath and looked at the young boy with care.  _Poor kid,_ he thought.  _Absent father, mother away, probably has nightmares more often than tonight._

"Gideon, it sounds like you had a bad dream, come, I'll walk you back to bed."

"No!" Gideon screamed, stamping his foot. "I... I can talk to real people in dreams. Please, please,” he begged. “Please," he repeated, the last word a whisper, his bravery leaving him. David remembered those years ago, Belle meeting an adult Gideon in the Realm of Dreams, and relented, nodding at Gideon and getting his phone. Belle's phone went to voicemail, so he walked Gideon back to his room and put him back to bed, promising to get in touch with Emma. He went into the living room and called his daughter.

Gold had began talking, his plan mostly centered around finding Belle and then his dagger. He spoke quickly in a steady voice, proud that he was able to keep his emotions in check, though gods know he was drowning with worry and anger. He had only been talking a few moments when Emma's phone rang and she quickly answered. Her volume was on loud enough for those close enough to hear that it was her father.

"Hey," she said.

"Emma - are you okay?" David asked.

"Yes, I'm with Regina and Gold, actually, there's been, well, it doesn't matter, why are you calling?"

"Gold? Put him on."

He heard Emma pass the phone and then the familiar voice that he can't say he missed answered, "Charming."

"Gold - uh, nice to have you back."

"I'm sure."

David peered around to make sure he was alone.

"Your son, he came to me. Said he saw Belle in his dream. She told him that she was behind a moving book case, that a there was a button, I guess to move it. Does that make sense?"

There was no response and Emma got back on the line.

"Thanks," Emma said.

"Should I come out there?" 

"No, no, I'll... I'll let you know if we need you."

"Okay, Em," he said, exhaling loudly. "I'm ready to come whenever you want. Stay safe."

Rumple was deep in thought but was disturbed by the rather loud cracking of gum.  _Pop, pop, pop,_ Alice continued to crack her gum with her teeth. She would have blown another bubble, but she couldn't, her nose being pressed to a page in the book.

"I will go retrieve Belle," Rumple said. "And take care of Ivy. The rest of you can do... whatever you want."

"That's not working _with_ them, Rumpelstiltskin," Alice said. 

"I'll go with you," Regina suggested. 

"No, I will. You have to go to the fountain." Emma checked her watch. "Killian, stay close to Regina."

"And then what, love?" Hook said. "You think Druzilla won't have back up? You're bloody mad if you think she'll come alone."

Rumple was getting tired of this game and he didn't much care for the fountain or the disaster that would surely ensue. He wanted to get Belle, get his dagger, slowly torture the responsible party, and get the hell out of Hyperion Heights. Emma slammed her foot onto a bar stool and took out a gun holstered to her ankle, throwing it at Hook. "We'll go early. Shoot if you have to, but I prefer if you take out any of her men quietly. Gold, I'll cover you and help get Belle to safety. Then we should rendezvous with Regina."

"It's not much of a plan," Regina said.

"No," Emma answered. "But its a quarter to twelve and we need to leave."

Alice slammed the book shut with a loud  _CRACK._

"And where are you off too?" Regina asked as Alice skipped toward the door. 

"Rumple's heart, o' course!" she said with a cackling laugh as she exited the bar.

Regina looked at Rumple who put his hand over his chest. "Whatever is left of my heart is still beating in here, don't be so concerned."

She nodded and they walked toward the door, Regina and Hook making their way to Eros Park, Rumple and Emma in the car toward Hecate Apartments. 

 

* * *

 

 

Ivy sat on the edge of a fountain, he feet crossed, leaning back on the palms of her hands. She had four men near her, and of course, a secret weapon no one knew she had. All she needed was the dagger, the final piece, and she would have eternal life, eternal power. She knew this band of "heroes" wouldn't hand the dagger over without a fight, she quite banked on an exciting night, so she smirked as she placed two woven bracelets around her wrists, humming to herself a merry tune. 


End file.
